Blackening
by SirixtheUnicorn
Summary: Eighteen years ago, the Reaper Crisis threatened to extinguish all life on Earth. An anonymous splinter cell organization called the Night Corps. was created to combat the growing Reaper menace. Fang Dreson led the Corps. and ultimately aided in the defeat of the Reapers. Now it would seem the Reapers have returned, and set their sights upon Zootopia.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

A lone figure sat on a bench at the West Icecap train station, nose buried in a large leather-bound book. The hour was late, the moon's' pearly luminescence bathing the landscape. As the figure read by moonlight, another detached from the night, making its way for the platform. As the second figure began its ascent, its shoes clanged against the metal stairs. The reading figure looked up at the sudden noise as the second figure stepped into the light. The figure in question was a bull elk, standing at about six foot four. He wore a simple white t-shirt and cargo pants and carried a small backpack. He looked over at the bench and made his way towards it.

The figure sitting there remained absolutely still as the elk approached and sat down next to him, seemingly oblivious to his presence. The two of them sat like that for several moments before the elk turned and finally noticed the bench's other occupant. The elk nearly tumbled off of the bench in shock.

"Oh, I uh, I didn't see you there…" his voice trailed off sheepishly. The black lynx smiled.

"Yeah, I tend to get that one a lot. Don't worry about it." he said amiably. "Being melanistic tends to have that effect on people." He stuck out his paw. "Names Drake, but everyone calls me Fang." he said. The elk gripped his paw and shook it.

"Elroy. Nice to meet you, Fang." Fang nodded before returning to his book. A few minutes passed before Elroy said anything again.

"So, ah, where you headed to, Fang?" He asked. Fang placed a finger in his book before turning to look at Elroy.

"Zootopia. Got a job there not too long ago. You?"

"Same place as you, but to visit some family in Tundratown." Elroy said. Fang looked at him curiously.

"Tundratown?" He asked, confused. "I thought you said you were going to Zootopia." Elroy looked at him strangely.

"Do you know anything about the city? Ever been there?" He asked. When Fang shook his head, understanding flashed through his eyes. "Ah. I see. Well, the city of Zootopia is divided into these different sections, each one representing a different biome. You've got Downtown, which is more or less the center of the city. Directly east of downtown is Sahara Square, and north of that is of that and north of Downtown, you've got the Rainforest District, the Meadowlands and the Canal District all clustered together. Southwest of Downtown is Savanna Central." Elroy said in a scholarly manner. He paused for a moment before enlightenment struck his features. "Hold up, I think I have a spare map around here somewhere…" He bent over, unzipping his backpack and began rummaging through it. After a few moments of rustling cloth and muttered curses, Elroy produced a folded square of paper and handed it to Fang. "That there is a detailed map of the city of Zootopia." He said. "It'll help you quite a bit. It did with me, anyway." Elroy handed the map to Fang, who promptly unfolded it. As he looked it over, Elroy fidgeted uncomfortably.

"You said you had a job waiting for you in Zootopia, right?" He asked.

"Yes. Why?" Fang asked quietly, his eyes never leaving the map.

"Well, if you don't mind me askin', I was wondering what that job was." Elroy said, his voice uncertain. Fang slowly raised his head and turned to look Elroy square in the eyes for the first time that night. His eyes were a startling blue, the slitted pupils betraying his race as feline. A jagged white scar began at the top of his temple and ran down his face, over his right eye, curved to the left and ended just above his throat.

"The Zootopia Police Department has requested that I instruct a course on advanced combat techniques this week from eight to five. I accepted the offer." He said matter-of-factly. Elroy nodded.

"I see." He said. He fidgeted for a moment, as if debating something. He opened his mouth to speak, but Fang cut him off.

"Before you ask, I learned to fight in the military. I was stationed in Europe a few years

ago, when the Reaper gang rose up and attempted a coup. That's all you need to know." He said monotonously. Elroy nodded. He looked like he wanted to say something else, but evidently decided not to. It was just as well. The pair sat together in silence, Fang examining the map, Elroy tapping the screen of a smartphone. After an hour of silence, a train whistle sounded in the distance. Fang looked up from the map at the noise, startling Elroy.

"Train's coming." Fang said simply when he caught Elroy's confused look. Elroy's look turned skeptical. Fang tilted his head, a half-smile spreading across his muzzle. "I heard it. You should be able to in just a moment." Elroy retained his skeptical look, but shrugged and slid his phone into his pocket. Fang followed suit, folding the map back up into a square. He held it out to Elroy, who shook his head.

"No, I gave that to you-"

"I don't need it. Once I take this train to Bunny Burrows, and ride the line into Downtown, I can rent a car and get to Tundratown, where I'll be staying. Plus, I have a GPS." Elroy nodded.

"Still, I insist that you keep the map. I have another one, and you never know when a GPS will break down. It's always good to have a contingency plan, eh?" He said. Fang nodded.

"True enough. Thank you." He said. Elroy smiled.

"Don't worry about it. I'm just happy I could help." He said warmly. The train whistled again, this time close enough that Elroy was able to make it out. "Well, I'll be damned. That's some hearing you've got there, friend." He said, a little awed. Fang gave him an odd look. "What?" Elroy asked. Fang shook his head.

"Nothing. It's...nothing." He said quietly. Elroy looked at him strangely before shrugging and standing up.

"Welp, train's almost here." He said brightly, picking up his backpack and slinging it over his shoulder. Fang followed suit, slinging a much larger pack and hefting two massive duffel bags. Fang stretched his neck first to the left, then the right, eliciting several sharp _pops_ to issue from his neck.

"Training gear." he said in response to Elroy's questioning gaze.

"Do you want any help with that?" Elroy asked. Fang simply shook his head.

"Nah, I've got it." He said. Elroy shrugged.

"If you say so." He said uncertainly. Fang turned and made for the platform with quick measured strides. Elroy had to struggle to keep up, despite being far less encumbered than his companion. Fang reached the platform first, gently placing the two bags on the ground, one on either side of him. He slipped his pack off from his shoulder and set it on top of the right side bag. Elroy noticed that the cat was wearing a black leather jacket with a design on the back, although it was too dark for the elk to make it out. As he drew near, the clouds parted for a moment, illuminating the jacket. Elroy nearly choked when he saw the large, red pentagram embroidered on most of its surface. The circle around the star was silver, and seemed to be fashioned in a chain design. The star was clearly dripping blood, and there were grey flames licking up around the entire thing. It took Elroy a minute to notice the words underneath- _Devil's Tongue: Rising Hell_. An involuntary shiver ran down his spine. He gulped before moving to Fang's side. The pair waited in silence for what seemed like an eternity before the sound of the train reached Fang's ears. He was about to say so, when Elroy spoke.

"What's up with that jacket you're wearing?" He asked nervously. Fang shot him a sideways glance.

"It's my band's jacket." He said. Elroy looked confused.

"Band? " He asked uncertainly. Fang nodded.

"Yeah, we're called Devil's Tongue. This jacket is to commemorate our fifth and most successful studio album, Rising Hell." He said all of this casually, like someone talking about the weather, and not a Satanic symbol emblazoned on his back. Seeing Elroy's look of fear, Fang chuckled. "Don't worry, we're not Satanists. We're just metalheads." He said. Elroy shook his head.

"What's the difference?" he asked. Fang gave him a hard look.

"The difference is quite large. For instance, metalheads do not generally practice satanism. In fact Tom Aria is a devout christian, and he's the lead vocalist for Slasher, the original death metal band. You really shouldn't generalize, you know. Appearances can be quite deceptive." Elroy looked abashed.

"You're right, you're right. I'm sorry, it's just so...in your face, it's almost aggressive." He said, getting a bit defensive at the end. Fang turned and looked him in the eye.

"It's supposed to be in your face and aggressive. That's kinda our thing." he said evenly. Elroy shook his head slowly.

"Why?" He asked. Fang sighed. How could one word elicit such weariness in him?

"Because that's what we wanted to do. Look, I don't want to start shit here. Joining Devil's Tongue was a personal decision, and I stand by that. I don't really care if you approve or not." He said, a hint of exasperation creeping into his voice. A look of disgust flashed over Elroy's face, but quickly vanished.

"Alright, fair enough. Like my mother taught me, 'judge not lest ye be judged yourself.'" He said. Fang nodded.

"Sounds like your mother is a very wise woman." Fang said quietly. Elroy smiled.

"That she was, my friend." He said quietly. Fang nodded. A few moments passed, in which the train drew near enough that they could both hear it. Fang reached down and slung the backpack over his shoulders, and picked up a duffel with each paw. A light sliced through the darkness that had set in, blinding both mammals. The train screeched past them, grinding to a stop. Several doors of various shapes and sizes opened at once. Due to the late hour and remote location, only a red fox and a timberwolf exited the train. Without a word, Fang made for the larger door to his left, Elroy close behind him. Once inside, Fang immediately took a right, heading for the viewing bubble he'd spied as the train pulled up. Elroy, however, went to the left, towards the seats. Fang released a sigh of relief. _Finally. I thought he'd never leave._ He thought as he ascended the stairs. Arriving at the door, he peered in. Once he was certain it was unoccupied, he set down one of his bags and opened the door. He tossed the bag in his paw unceremoniously into the room, kicking the other one after it. The _clank_ of metal on metal reverberated throughout the enclosed space. The backpack followed soon after. Fang entered the room and closed the door behind him. He crossed over to the wall where his belongings had fallen and sank to the floor, back against the cool metal of the wall. He drew his legs up under him in a kneeling position, resting his paws on his thighs. He drew a deep breath, closing his eyes as he exhaled.

As the moments crept by, his mind became blank. He thought of nothing, yet remained aware of his surroundings. Thus, he was unsurprised when the door opened and someone entered. They walked over to where the railing was. Fang assumed they were looking through the dome. The two of them stayed like that for almost an hour before Fang heard the rustle of cloth indicating their body movement. They let out a soft sound of surprise, and began walking towards where Fang's bags had fallen. They stopped right around where one of the duffels was, and the Fang detected the sound of cloth against fur again.

"Don't touch that." he said quietly. The other person started violently at his voice, and promptly fell over. Fang didn't react. Several minutes passed with no sound except the moving of the train over the tracks. Judging by the lack of activity from his companion, and the nature of what led to it, Fang assumed he was dealing with a possum. They tended to do the whole 'playing dead' thing a lot.

"You can get up now," he said, somewhat amused. "I won't bite." He heard the mammal shuffle about as they got up. "Sorry about that," Fang said. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"Oh, it's quite alright," the mammal said in a reedy voice that was unmistakably male. "Although I must say I'm quite surprised. If I'm not mistaken, your eyes are closed. Is that correct?" He asked. Fang smiled slightly.

"Yes, that is correct. And before you ask, no. I cannot see you, but I am aware of your presence." He said. There was a pause as the mammal took in this information.

"Oh. Um, ok then." The mammal said, insecurity coloring his voice. There was another lull in their conversation, this one seeming to be more awkward, at least on the other mammal's part. Fang was perfectly comfortable with the silence. After a few moments, the mammal walked away, presumingly to gaze out the window. Fang maintained his meditation, his breathing even, controlled. After a while, Fang heard the door open and close again, leaving the observation deck in silence. After two hours of travel, Fang eased out of his meditation. His breathing became more natural, and his senses returned to their usual state of being. He slowly opened his eyes, allowing the soft orange light from the Bunny Burrow street lamps to strike his dilated pupils. He stood and stretched, several joints popping in rapid succession. He sauntered over to his backpack, whistling a simple tune. He crouched down and unzipped the front pocket, extracting a pair of sapphire headphones, the earpieces emblazoned with with a silver skull design. He pulled a cPod Touch from his back pocket and plugged them in. Slipping the headphones over his ears, he unlocked the cPod with his free paw. He scrolled idly through the various bands contained within, settling for an instrumental version of _Through the Ever-After_.

He moved his bags to the railing, before resting his arms on it and gazing out the window, his low-light vision revealing the dark houses of Bunny Burrow. There were several large buildings in the distance, which he assumed were hotels. There was a large plot of farmland to his right, green shoots sprouting in neat rows. To his left was the train station, where a single passenger could be seen departing. Straight ahead about mile off was a large yellow sign. Fang couldn't make out what it said, but thought it might be the farewell sign. With a lurch, the train began to move again. Fangs foot idly tapped to the beat of his music, and he allowed his mind to wander. His thoughts turned to Elroy from the station and he sighed. He'd hated lying to the gut, but if word got out that the Reapers had surfaced again, this time in the heart of Zootopia… Fang grimaced. He didn't want to contemplate the chaos that would undoubtedly ensue.

Sighing again, he clicked off his music, and replaced the headphones in his bag. He stretched his legs out and rested his head on one of his duffel bags. He clasped his paws together over his chest and closed his eyes. With only the sound of the train's wheels on the tracks for company, the world fell away, depositing him in the world of dreams.

 _Fang found himself in a familiar courtyard. He was sitting on a bench made of polished granite. He could feel letters engraved on the back of it rubbing against his spine. He didn't need to see them to know what they said. "In memory of Sarah and Mike Dreson, loving parents, brilliant scientists and devoted lovers. May you rest in peace." He felt the tears before they manifested in his eyes. The courtyard was beautiful, there was no doubt about that. There was a golden statue in the middle, depicting a large mammal(a boar…? Fang could never be sure) dressed in a loincloth, raising a spear over its head in a victory pose. Allegedly, it represented the primal ways of animals._

 _There were memorial benches like the one he was sitting on scattered throughout the courtyard, each one remembering a fallen loved one. Despite his tears, he was filled with a certain tranquility, the kind of tranquility that could only be found after accepting the inevitable. His parents were gone, but that was part of life. The best thing he could do was move on and make the, proud. He smiled through the tears, already deciding what to do with life._

 _And then he saw him. At the gate, a figure draped in a cloak black as midnight stood, the silvery sheen of his mask, carved in the likeness of a saber-tooth tiger skull gleamed in the sunlight. It felt to Fang as if the air temperature had dropped several degrees. A cloud rolled over the sun, darkening the area. The figure moved towards him, silently gliding over the cobblestones, a trail of black mist floating in his wake. A thrill of fear shot down his spine like liquid nitrogen. He tried to stand up, to move, to run from whatever this creature was, but found himself unable to move. The creature stopped not two feet from where he sat. Fang looked up, and to his horror, saw that the eyes of this creature glowed a spectral green. Its face was not visible behind the mask, but Fang knew without a shadow of a doubt that it was feline in nature._

" _Fang Dreson…" Its voice was raspy, and echoed from within the mask. It spoke slowly, surely. "You cannot...hide from_ me _." Its voice seemed to grow more urgent. Fang tried to speak, to ask what in God's name was going on, but as he was unable to move, he could not speak either, no matter how hard he tried. "I will have...your soul...one way...or another…" Fang felt his panic rise, his heart beating so fast and hard he thought it would explode. The cloak parted, and a withered paw emerged from the darkness within, reaching for him. He could do nothing except watch in mute horror as the creature's paw latched onto his face. The creature's arm began to glow the same luminescent green as its eyes, and Fang could feel himself being pulled from his body…_

Fang's eyes flew open and he bolted upright, his right paw swiping at his face. When it met nothing but air, he realized what had happened. _Fuck,_ he thought. _That's the fifth time this week._ He rubbed his face with both paws, willing himself to calm down. _It was just a dream,_ he told himself. He groaned as he stood up, stretching his cramped muscles. He looked out the window and started slightly. The train had stopped, and several mammals were already departing from the train. Fang quickly glanced around before he spotted a sign welcoming mammals to Savanna Central. Cursing under his breath, Fang quickly gathered up his bags before crossing to the door and opening it with his foot. He jogged down the steps, taking them two at a time, before he reached the main part of the car. He turned and walked down the deserted aisle before coming to the door and stepping out.

Once on the platform, he did a quick three-sixty taking in his surroundings. There were several shops and kiosks of course, most of them closed. The other passengers had dispersed and gone their separate ways. There were a grand total of five mammals on the platform, excluding himself: a pair of grey wolves were sitting on a bench together, deep in conversation to his right. An opossum was running the one open kiosk, selling burgers for astronomically high prices to his left. In front of him was a bengal tiger, who looked barely awake. The last mammal was also in front of him. The male lion was adorned in a ZPD uniform, and held a large white sign that simply read, in large black letters, "Fang". As Fang headed towards the lion, his face came into view, causing Fang to stop dead in his tracks. Their eyes met, and for what seemed like an eternity, neither one of the made any sort of move.

"Jared...Delgado? Is that you?" He called out. The lion broke out into a massive grin.

"Who else, bro?" he called back. Fang's normally collected demeanor was instantly replaced with a massive, lopsided grin.

"You son of bitch," He called. "Get over here!" The two of them met halfway. Fang dropping his duffel bags by his side and embracing the older lion. After a moment they pulled away, both of them still grinning like school children.

"Well, I'll be damned," Jared said. "I'd heard you were dead." Fang shook his head.

"You believe everything you're told? But never mind that, how've you been, man? It's been forever!" Fang exclaimed. Jared's smile grew a little bit bigger.

"Yeah, five whole years. I've been great. Work hasn't been too bad. I mostly deal with petty thievery and drunken brawls. We did have that case a month back though with some missing mammals, but that was solved pretty fast. Nothing too exciting. How 'bout you? Done any cool shit lately?" He asked. Fang nodded.

"Well, I got accepted into S-F about a month after we parted last. Surprisingly, it only took a year for them to offer me the General position. Of course, I refused. Never did like power. I'm Specialist Dreson now. I'm their professional Reaper killer. But since the Reapers haven't been seen or heard from in nineteen years, I usually just help with the Covert Ops and Demolition Squad. However, I cannot disclose too much information about the squads, or our missions, at least not here. Still having that damned nightmare, but other than that, I'm just peachy. So, where we goin'?" he asked. Jared's grin returned full force.

"You're staying with me, so we're off to my place, bro. Cars waitin' up top. I'm ready whenever you are." he said. Fang grinned.

"Sounds great. Let me just grab my things." he said. He walked over to where he had dropped his duffel bags and picked them up again. He turned around and began walking towards the stairs that led back up to the surface.

"Say, what's in those bags anyway?" Jared asked. Fang shrugged with a mischievous smile.

"You'll see tomorrow, old friend. I've got instructions to train all you ZPD officers." He said. Jared sighed.

"Well, this should be interesting at least." he said in a resigned voice. Fang chuckled as they climbed above to the surface, the cool night air caressing his fur gently.

"Alright, which way to the car?" He asked. Jared pointed to his left.

"Black with green stripes. Can't miss it." Fang nodded and headed in the indicated direction. Fang though of all the lessons he had planned for the time he'd be here and grinned tightly. This was going to be fun.


	2. Chapter 2

Sunlight filtered through the high set windows of the ZPD, illuminating the massive chamber. Fang strolled through the double doors, side by side with Jared, each carrying a duffel bag. Jared wore his police uniform, while Fang wore black jeans and a Sliptheknotin T-shirt. The two of them were deep in conversation, discussing Fang's sleeping arrangements.

"Look, it's not a big deal. Your couch is more comfortable than literally every place I've slept in for the past three years. I really don't mind." Fang was saying. Jared waved his paw dismissively.

"No, you're my guest. You will _not_ sleep on my couch while you're here. This is not up for debate. You _will_ have my guest room, capiche?" He said, somewhat forcefully. Fang gave an exasperated sigh.

"You always were a stubborn one." He muttered.

"That had better be a yes. I can do this all day if I have to." Jared threatened. Fang rolled his eyes, but acquiesced to the lion's demand. As the two of them drew near the reception desk, Fang finally noticed the very...large cheetah, who was munching heartily on a bowl of Lucky Chomps. Said cheetah looked up as the two of the approached.

"Hey Jared!" He said enthusiastically once they were within earshot. Fang surmised that the cheetah was unusually perky. He gave a mental sigh. Perky people were usually tiresome for him to deal with, sometimes to the point of anger. Jared smiled at the cheetah in question.

"Hey, Benji. I'd love to stay and chat, but I've got to show my friend here to his new office." He said amiably. Fang even detected a hint of genuine regret in his voice.

"Oh. That's alright. Oh, I'm Benjamin Clawhauser. Nice to meet you!" The cheetah stuck his paw out towards Fang, who grasped it firmly.

"Specialist Dreson, S-F. Good to meet you as well."

"So what exactly are you going to be doing here?" Clawhauser asked.

"You'll see on Monday." Fang answered evenly. "Now, I don't mean to be rude, but I should really get to my new office. I also need to familiarize myself with the complex and meet the rest of the force." Clawhauser's features brightened slightly.

"Ohhh, I can show you around the precinct! Just-"

"That won't be necessary." Fang cut him off. "I'm sure I can find my way around on my own." The cheetah's face fell.

"Oh. Um, o-ok then." He said defeatedly. Fang turned to Jared, ignoring the disapproving look on his face.

"Which way to my office?" He asked. Jared stared at him in silence for a moment before rolling his eyes.

"Follow me." he said before striding off, Fang close behind him. They turned left and walked down a long corridor lined with offices on both sides. There were brass nameplates by each door, with two names engraved on all of them, save the last one on the left. It simply read "Fang". Jared opened the door and entered; Fang followed. The office was spartanly decorated, with a single desk and chair along one wall and an analog clock on the wall directly in front of the door.

"So where do you want this?" Jared asked, hefring the duffel bag.

"Just along a wall, any wall." Fang said. The two of them set down the bags.

"You know, you could've been nicer to Ben." Jared said suddenly. "He only wanted to help."

Fang sighed.

"I know. But you know how I loathe to deal with people, especially the perky ones. I work better alone anyway." He said. Jared chuckled.

"Yeah, you always were the loner. Well, I'll leave you to it then. But before I go: try to meet the fox and rabbit. I think you'll find them...interesting. Hell, you might even like 'em. See ya, Fang."

"See ya." Jared turned and walked out of the office. Fang sighed. "I need to get some posters and shit. These bland walls'll drive me crazy otherwise. Maybe throw get some beanbags in here too. That chair looks uncomfortable as hell." He grunted and shook his head. "I need to stop talking to myself…" He muttered. He turned to leave, and almost ran into the massive cape buffalo standing in the door.

"Settling in well, Dreson?" he asked nonchalantly. His nameplate read 'Bogo'. With a start, Fang realized that he was speaking with the chief of the precinct.

"To be honest, I haven't had time to settle yet. I only got here a few minutes ago." The chief nodded.

"I see. So, you start Monday, is that right?" He asked, his voice still betraying no emotion.

"That's correct." Fang answered evenly. "What of it?" Bogo entered the office fully, walking over to the desk. He didn't speak, but looked around the room. Fang was certain the buffalo had a reason to be here besides welcoming him. There was an air of tension around the chief that he couldn't quite place. Finally, Bogo's eyes fell upon the twin duffel bags resting against the wall.

"What's in those?" he asked.

"Supplies pertaining to what I'll be doing here." Fang replied.

"Which is?"

"Didn't S-F tell you?" Fang asked incredulously. Bogo shook his head.

"Not a word." He said. Fang snorted.

"Typical. Throw me into a new job and they don't even bother to explain the damn situation. Alright, listen up. Nineteen years ago. The Reapers incident in Europe. Remember that?" Fang asked. Bogo nodded and opened his muzzle to speak, but Fang pressed on. "Good. Well, it turns out that they might not be as dead as we thought. There have been several reports of sighted Reapers here in Zootopia. My job here is to train all of you on how to kill the fuckers. I'll be going over this in more detail on Monday. It should also be noted that throughout the duration of my mission, you will answer to me." Bogo's eyes widened at the last part. His expression quickly shifted to outrage.

" _I_ will answer to _you_?" he asked incredulously. "And who exactly are you!?" He exclaimed. Fang furrowed his brow.

"Did they leave that out as well?" he asked. "No matter. I am Specialist Drake Linwe Dreson, also known as The Black Fang of Selena. Most people just call me Fang as a result. I am the only surviving member of the Night Corps. We were the elite fighting group that combated the Reapers. Again, I'll talk more about them on Monday. Does that satisfy all of your questions, Chief Bogo?" He asked. The buffalo's expression had turned from angry to neutral during Fang's speech.

"Yes, I suppose it does...for now." He said. He seemed to be thinking hard for a minute before speaking again. "They told me your name and that you would be working here for some time." He said quietly. "But when I asked them, they downright refused to give me any answers. But I will say this much: I'll follow your orders, if for no other reason then I must, but I won't be held responsible for any bad orders you may give me." He said with finality. Fang gave the chief a half-smile.

"Good. I wouldn't expect you to anyway." He said. He stuck out his paw. "I look forward to working with you, Chief Bogo." He said solemnly. Bogo nodded and gripped the proffered paw.

"And I look forward to seeing how this all pans out." He said quietly. Fang nodded.

"Well, if we're finished here, the precinct ain't gonna tour itself." He said. "Chief." With that, he turned and walked out the door. He backtracked to the lobby, where he was greeted by quite the sight. A rabbit and fox, presumably the ones Jared had spoken of, were strolling through the doors, a fully grown grizzly bear between them, paws cuffed behind his back. The rabbit wore a black vest over her uniform, and had grey kneepads and a utility belt. The fox on the other paw, wore a standard uniform with a tie, and a pair of mirrored sunglasses. He also seemed to hold himself at ease, possibly with slight disregard to the world. The bear was shirtless, and had wore a pair of blue jeans. A muzzle was fastened to his head, and unless he was mistaken, seemed to be casting fearful glances at the mammals guiding him.

"Oh. Em. Goodness!" Clawhauser exclaimed. "You two caught James Blödbeor!?" The cheetah's face displayed open awe.

"That's right, Spot," The fox said. "Although it was Carrots' idea."

"Yeah, but you pulled it off!" The rabbit said. The fox chuckled.

"True enough, Carrots." he said with a easy smile.

"Well, we should get him to the cells. C'mon, Nick." The rabbit said.

"Ma'am, yes ma'am!" Nick said cheerfully. The rabbit rolled her eyes, but said nothing. As one, the two mammals turned their captive and walked past the desk. Fang made a mental note to find out more about these two as soon as possible. They had definitely piqued his interest. He crossed the lobby, noticing the mezzanine as he did so. He stopped and did a quick three-sixty. He quickly realized that the lobby was a massive circle with the second floor mezzanine circling it. There were doors all around, presumably leading to the different parts of the facility. With a shrug, Fang picked a direction and started walking.

 _Three hours later_

Fang rubbed his eyes sleepily. He hadn't slept since arriving in the city, and it had finally caught up with him. He rubbed his face, trying to remember where he was. He had just come from the armory(a rather standard one at that) and headed east, so that put him roughly...twenty yards from the lobby. _Should be just up here on my left._ He thought tiredly. By this point, he'd seen most of the precinct, and now needed to meet Jared back in the lobby. He rounded the corner and groaned in despair when he saw another dead end hallway. He ran a paw over the top of his head in frustration. He was lost.

"Fucking hell." He muttered. He leaned against the wall and sighed.

"Something wrong?" The female voice came seemingly from out of nowhere, startling Fang. He looked around in confusion, not seeing another mammal in the hallway. Only when she cleared her throat did he look down and notice the rabbit at his feet. Her features were arranged in a look of mild concern, her amethyst eyes looking up at him. Fang chuckled quietly.

"Yeah, I'm afraid I'm a bit lost. I could've sworn the lobby was right here." He said abashedly. The rabbit raised an eyebrow.

"Lobby's back that way about a hundred meters on your left." She said. "I'm Judy by the way. Judy Hopps." She stuck her paw out. With a mental shrug, Fang gripped it lightly with his own.

"Specialist Dreson, S-F." he said. Judy gave him a confused look.

"S-F?"

"Special Forces. And thanks for pointing me back, I've got to meet someone in…" He checked his watch. "Fifteen minutes. Oh damn, I'd better get going ASAP." He turned and jogged down the hallway. "Oh, and it was nice meeting you, Judy!" He called over his shoulder. He followed Judy's instructions and found himself back in the lobby with eight minutes to spare. He breathed a sigh of relief. He walked over to the center of the lobby, pulling a small volume out of his back pocket as he did so. He flipped it open to the page he had left off on and began reading. After about seven and a half minutes of reading, Fang noticed Jared standing nearby with his back turned. He dog-eared the book and returned it to his pocket. He waited patiently while Jared conversed with Clawhauser about a case he had been assigned to. As he waited, he noticed a certain fox sneaking around the counter. Being a smaller mammal, no on in the precinct seemed to have noticed him. He slipped a joy buzzer onto one of his paws, the strap color matching the fur on said paw.

"Hey Delgado!" The fox called up. The lion turned and looked down at him. "I just wanted to say congratulations on solving that last case. It's a real honor to work beside someone like you." He extended his paw, the one with the joy buzzer strapped to it for the lion to shake. Jared looked at him skeptically, before shrugging and reaching for the smaller paw.

"He's wearing a joy buzzer on that paw," Fang called out. The fox shot him a withering glare as Jared withdrew his paw with a laugh.

"Good try though," Jared said. "Although you'll have to try harder than that to get past that one." The fox rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses before sauntering over to Fang.

"You're pretty sharp there, friend." The fox said. Fang raised an eyebrow.

"Indeed." He said. "What of it?" The fox gave him an easy half-smile.

"Oh, nothing, just an observation." He said. He extended his paw. "Nick Wilde." He said amiably. Fang raised an eyebrow.

"Specialist Dreson." he said, making no move to shake the fox's paw. They stood like that for a minute before the fox laughed.

"I don't know what I expected." he admitted. He pulled off the joy buzzer and stick it in his uniform shirt pocket. He extended the paw again, and Fang gripped it. He gave the fox a half-smile that eerily similar to his own. He liked this guy. He was crafty, but not maliciously so to his peers.

"You ready, Jared?" Fang asked. The lion had been watching the proceedings with interest.

"Just about. I'll meet you by the car." Fang nodded.

"Well, it was nice meeting you, Nick," He said. "But I've got to get going. See you on Monday." With that, he turned and walked out the doors, and into the dying sunlight. He made his way to the car slowly, lost in thought. Jared had been right. The fox and rabbit were indeed quite interesting. He looked forward to seeing them in action. Arriving at the car, he proceeded to lean against it. _Reapers…_ he mused. _I have to train the mammals to fight Reapers. Ain't gonna be easy either, at least for some of them._ He thought of Clawhauser and his Lucky Chomps. _That's a disaster waiting to happen,_ he thought dryly. He yawned and rubbed his eyes. He gazed into the sun, the orange disk just barely touching the horizon and bathing the city in its russet hues. It was quite a lovely sight. Fang sighed. _I hope the training isn't too much for them,_ he thought. _We're going to need every able-bodied mammal we can get to defend the city against these Reapers._

.

.

.

\/

 **(A/N) Shout out to sidraTheater for letting me use Sliptheknotin. If you haven't already, go check out his story, Hot Fuzz. Any and all feedback is greatly appreciated. I'll try to update this by next week, but I make no promises. See ya'll next time. -Sirix**


	3. Chapter 3

Fang awoke to the blaring sound of his alarm. Groaning, he reached over to the bedside table and felt around for the alarm. He found his book, pencils paper...there. He fumbled with the various buttons on the top in a vain attempt to silence the damned thing. Giving up, grabbed the cord and yanked it from the socket. Blessed quiet filled the room as he sat up, rubbing his eyes. Yawning, he stood and crossed the room to the closet. He pulled out the outfit he'd chosen to work in: his old black trench coat from the Night Corps. days. One of the sleeves had been ripped of, and there were several strips missing from the bottom, used as makeshift bandages in the field. There were several holes and seams all over the piece. He pulled out a bulletproof chestpiece emblazoned with the crest of the Night Corps.: A purple crescent moon over red rose. The rest of the piece was black; it was pitted and scratched in several places A pair of black cargo pants followed, along with his black combat boots.

As Fang readied himself for the day to come, he found himself worrying yet again on how well he would be received today. As a former commander in the Army, he knew full the importance of first impressions. They could either make or break a commander. He'd once made the mistake of appearing weak to his first squadron. They had scoffed and refused to follow orders on several occasions afterward, and the orders they followed, they did so reluctantly. That is, until he'd saved them from a pair of Reapers. That had earned their respect right quick. Fang hoped to at least earn the ZPD'd compliance today, if not their respect. For their sake, he sincerely hoped they wouldn't have to face a Reaper before they were ready. He clicked the final strap of the chest piece into place, shrugging his shoulders to get it to fit more comfortably. He slipped the trench coat on, turning the collar up. He laced on his combat boots and stood, cracking his neck.

He grabbed his keys from a bowl on the bedside table, his simple red leather wallet, and a pair of sunglasses he'd acquired some time ago in the rainforests of Rio Deer Janerio. The lenses were black, but when the button on the side of the frame was pressed, they lit up red, allowing for infrared vision. They were quite the prize. He also picked up his old flip phone and pocketed it. Sure, it wasn't very fancy, but it got the job done. He opened his bedroom door quietly, stepping out into the hall. He made his way down the stairs to the kitchen, not bothering to turn on the lights. He glanced at the stove clock as he entered the kitchen. _4:15. Good. I've still got time._ The kitchen was relatively small, like the rest of the house. The fridge was stainless steel, and has an ice/water dispenser on the left side door. The pantry was opposite the fridge, next to the sink. There were cabinets all around the walls, painted red with dragon designs etched into them in silver. He crossed over to the pantry and opened it, browsing the selection of breakfast cereals on the middle shelf. Settling for some Cheetah-O's, he pulled the box of the shelf and closed the door. He set the box on the countertop by the sink and opened the cabinet above it, grabbing a bowl. He crossed over to the fridge and opened it, grabbing the milk. A moment later, Fang sat at the table, munching on the bland cereal.

He pulled a piece of paper and pen from the internal pocket of his coat. He unfolded the paper and uncapped the pen, reading over the words that were scrawled within. He held the pen with one paw, his spoon with the other, and began to tap out a rhythm with his foot. He ate while his brain processed the words, adding new ones, crossing some out. This went on for several minutes, ending only when he went to take a bite of cereal, his eyes still glued to the paper, and tasted nothing but milk. He glanced at the clock, which now read 4:35. With a satisfied grunt, Fang put the pen down, drained his bowl of milk, and placed it in the sink. He grabbed the paper and pen, replacing them in his coat pocket before heading out the door. The two-car garage light was off, and for most other mammals would have been pitch-dark. Due to Fang's natural low-light vision, he was able to see perfectly fine. He made his way to the car he'd rented the day before: a green Ferretari with black racing stripes and convertible roof. He chuckled to himself. Being a Specialist had its perks. Climbing into the car, he fished his keys out of his pocket, inserting the correct one into the ignition. He started the car while simultaneously hitting the button to open the garage door. The drive to the precinct was short and uneventful.

Fang pulled into his reserved spot in the back of the complex, killing the engine. He glanced at the dash clock. Five 'o'clock sharp. Perfect. Officers would start arriving around six-ish, so that gave Fang about an hour to set a few things up. He climbed out of the vehicle, locking it with the fab behind him. Since S-F hadn't deigned to give him a key to the place, he'd had to ask Chief Bogo for one. Unfortunately, they didn't have any spare keys. Bogo had placed an order that was scheduled to arrive on Tuesday. Jared had given fang his key for today, saying he'd just pool with officer Fangmeyer. Fang unlocked the door and stepped through the threshold. The precinct was lit dimly by security lights. Unperturbed, Fang headed towards his office, making a mental checklist of things he needed to do. It was imperative that they saw what was used to fight Reapers, that they understood their weaknesses, their resistances. Arriving at his door, Fang inserted the key and unlocked it. The room was largely as he'd left it on his first day with only two noticeable differences. He'd replaced the spinning chair with a large purple beanbag chair large enough to fit two large cats side by side.

The other was the life-sized poster of Corey Tailor, the white tiger vocalist for

Sliptheknotin, wearing his famous 1999 mask. The detail on the poster was absurd. One could almost count the individual number of hairs on his exposed muzzle. Fang's duffel bags were aligned side by side on top of his desk. Fang crossed over to the desk and unzipped the bag on the left. Within the bag was a pile of weaponry and various gadgets. The item on top was a sheathed combat knife with a red hilt, strapping it to his lower back so the hilt pointed right. Digging through the the supplies, Fang withdrew two silver pistols, one engraved with the Night Corps. symbol and the other with his family emblem, a soaring dragon, wings upraised and a gout a fire streaming from its open maw. He set them down while he continued to rummage through the bag. After several moments and a few curses, he extracted the holsters for them. They were plain black leather and strapped to the chest. He did so, sliding the pistols into the holsters and latching them shut.

Fang zipped the bag back up and hefted it off the table. He grabbed the other bag as well and headed out the door, shutting it behind him with his hind paw. He turned right and headed down the corridor towards the bullpen. He had made it halfway across the lobby when his keen sense of hearing detected the sound of claws against linoleum. Fang immediately halted and stood perfectly still, listening. His ears twitched as it sounded again, to his left. His head snapped around to where the sound was coming from. He espied a small, shadowy figure darting around the corner, an odd shape on its back. Fang dropped his bags and reached behind him, unsheathing his dagger, gripping it in a reverse grip, with the edge facing outwards. Silent as a spectre, he stole his way over to the wall. He raised the blade to eye level, using the smooth surface of the blade as a mirror. He espied the tail of the mammal disappear around another corner.

He silently dashed down the hall, whipping his head to the left. The mammal was small, barely coming up to his thigh. _Tail's orange, tipped in black. Bushy too. Ears are the same coloration. Fox, then. Manilla backpack. Looks like it was made for a larger mammal. What's he up to?_ He thought. The fox started to turn right, and Fang barely managed to stay out of his line of sight. _What's he doing down by the offices?_ Fang followed, combat boots barely making a whisper on the linoleum. The fox didn't look to either side of the hallway, which Fang found odd. The hallway was a dead end, so the only two conceivable reasons he'd come this way would be that he was looking for someone's office, or was lost. However, the fox strode forward with confidence, which would lead one to assume he knew where he was going. And yet,the fox never looked at the nameplates by the doors. The two of them continued in near silence, the fox's claws clacking against the floor quietly. The fox stopped and turned left, Fang keeping behind him.

They were outside Fang's office. The fox jumped up, grabbing the handle with both paws and pushing it open. Fang cursed himself mentally for not locking it. Gripping the knife tightly, Fang settled into a low crouch. The fox didn't bother closing the door, most likely because no sane mammal would be here at this early hour. Except for them, that is. The fox shrugged off the pack and set it on the ground next to him. As he started to unzip it, Fang felt every muscle in his body contract. His heart beat faster and his pupils contracted sharply. Just as the unknown fox reached into the backpack, Fang pounced, flying silently through the air. Raising his left arm, he slammed into the fox, who gave a strangled yelp in surprise. Momentum carried them all the way to the wall, where Fang pinned him by the chest, raising the knife to his throat. Fang lowered his head and looked into the eyes of…an officer? Unless he was mistaken, this was the fox that had brought in the grizzly with Judy Hopps.

"Whoa whoa whoa!" He shouted in surprise. "Look buddy, I don't want any trouble…" He began.

"Aren't you Nick?" Fang asked. The fox looked surprised.

"Um, yeah…? Do I know you?" Nick asked. Fang shook his head and let the smaller mammal off the wall. He sheathed the knife and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

"Sorry about that. I thought you were an intruder." He said.

"Do you really treat all intruders like that?" Nick asked.

"Don't you?" Fang asked, genuinely surprised. Nick gave him A Look. Fang knew it all too well. It was a combination of unease and concern, one that screamed 'what's wrong with this guy?' Fang hated it.

"Um, no, I can't say that I do or would. I mean come on, don't you think that's a bit...extreme? At least in this setting?" Nick asked. Fang opened his muzzle to speak, but then it hit him: that was an extreme reaction. An intruder in the ZPD complex who wasn't very effective at stealth probably couldn't have done much harm.

"Yeah, you're right." Fang said. "That was too extreme." Nick nodded.

"Don't worry about it. But all that aside, I don't think we've properly met." Nick said. He stuck out his small paw. "I'm Nick Wilde." He said. Fang grasped the proffered paw.

"Fang Dreson. Nice to meet you." He said. The two of them shook.

"So, Fang, what exactly are _you_ doing here?" Nick asked.

"I was sent here by S-F. My job here is… well, you'll see later today." He said. Nick raised an eyebrow. "It'll take awhile to explain, and I don't want to repeat myself. I'll be telling the whole ZPD today." Fang said. Nick nodded.

"So, S-F, huh? You're a soldier?" he asked. Fang sighed.

"More or less. Again, I'll explain more later. I would however, like to know why you're in my office in the wee hours of the morning with a massive backpack." he said. A small smile stretched across Nick's muzzle. Fang knew this look as well. "And I can tell if you lie, so don't bother trying." He added. The smug look didn't leave his face.

"I was planning on pranking the new guy," He admitted. "It's kind of a ritual around here." He added. Fang closed his eyes and nodded.

"Well, the first half of that statement was true," he said. "But the part about

pranking being a ritual was a lie. Officer Delgado warned me about you, you know." Fang said calmly. "Nice try, Wilde." Fang opened his eyes. "Now, if you don't mind, I would appreciate it if you got out of my office." Nick nodded and scampered to his bag and slung it over his shoulder before exiting the room. Fang sighed and shut the door. He'd never imagined that he'd have to train a fox and a bunny in the art of Reaper Combat. Their small stature could either prove to be beneficial or catastrophic. He'd wished S-F had deigned to tell him he'd be doing so themselves, but that of course would imply that his higher-ups. He rubbed the back of his neck in frustration, before crossing over to his desk and picking up a hardback novel resting on the desk, _Fifty Shades of Prey_. He opened the book, the stiff spine cracking slightly. As he turned to the first page, he crossed the room and opened the door. Holding the book in one paw, he proceeded to make his way to the bullpen. As he neared where he'd dropped his bags, you bent over and grabbed the handles of both with his free paw, hefting them up.

Thus ladened, he continued on toward his destination. Drawing near, he set the bags down momentarily to open the door. It swung forward on silent hinges. Grabbing the bags, he proceeded into the unlit room, the door swinging shut behind him with a soft _thunk_. He walked to the front of the room, his boots now making a dull _thud_ with each step. He tossed the bags up to the front, where they landed with a _clank._ He grabbed a chair from one of the tables as he passed by and set it behind the podium. He then proceeded to sit in the chair, tilting it back so that it leaned against the wall behind him and kicked his paws up onto the podium. With a contented sigh, he began waiting for his charges to show up. He didn't have to wait for very long. After half an hour, the door opened and a large rhino stepped in. There was a very masculine sounding grunt as he fumbled along the wall for the light switch. Finding it, he flicked it up. Fang winced as the lights flared to life, momentarily blinding him. The ground shook as the rhino made his way towards the front of the room. Fang returned his eyes to the book in his paw, stoutly ignoring the larger mammal.

The rhino took a seat almost directly in front of the podium, but seemed to take no notice of Fang. He wasn't surprised. Rhinos had notoriously bad eyesight, and all the black Fang was wearing probably didn't help in that department. The two of them sat in silence in the few minutes it took for anyone else to show. The next to arrive was a tigress wearing noticeable eyeliner.

"Morning, McHorn." She said, yawning.

"Hey Fangmeyer." The rhino answered in a gravelly voice. The tiger made her way up to where he was sitting and stopped cold.

"Who're you?" She asked, looking directly at Fang. He turned the page of his book, the paper making barely a sound as it moved.

"A guest, here at the orders of those above both of our pay grades." He answered stoically.

"Uh huh," Fangmeyer said skeptically. "And why are you here?" She asked.

"You'll see when everyone else gets here." He said. "I'll introduce myself to the group as whole as well, so don't ask me to do so now." With that, he continued reading, ignoring the two officers who were staring at him. Fangmeyer shrugged and turned to McHorn.

"So, anyway, did you catch that football game last night?" Fang continued reading, the words on the pages causing all else to vanish as he was transported to the world spun by the author. When he came to a particularly steamy scene between the main characters, he couldn't help but chuckle evilly as a blush crept up the inside of his ears. Momentarily extracting himself from the world of Anastasia and Christian, he was astounded to see that quite a collection of mammals had shown up, and quite the buzz had arisen. Doing a quick headcount, Fang was startled to see that almost everyone was there. The only two that weren't present were Nick and Jared. He closed his eyes and let the harsh cacophony of the ZPD's officers wash over him. He heard Fangmeyer and McHorn arguing rather heatedly over whether or not the newest member of the Warriors was good. There was hooting and hollering all around, but Fang was able to pinpoint the source of the commotion: an arm wrestling match between two mammals named Grizzoli and Francine. He cracked open one eye and was startled to see that the mammals in question were a grizzly bear and an elephant. And that they seemed to be evenly matched. With a mental shrug, Fang returned to his reading, keeping an ear open for the door.

He had barely finished the chapter he was on when he heard the door open. He glanced up and saw both officers walking down the aisle, deep in conversation.

"...And so I looked him in the eye and said 'Do I look like a pussy to you? Of _course_ I want cigarettes on my sandwhich! And make sure they're on fire!" Jared was saying. "The best part? He actually did it. He gave me a sandwhich. With flaming cigarettes." The fox and lion laughed in unison. A small smile touched Fang's muzzle as well. He made a mental note to get the whole story from Jared later. Nick took his seat next to the rabbit, Judy and continued conversing with Jared about trivial things. Fang heard a door to his left open quite suddenly and powerfully. Looking up, he saw Chief Bogo striding towards the podium. He gave the chief a smart salute before returning to his book. The chief stood to Fangs left, looking out at the throng of mammals, most of which were oblivious to his presence.

"Alright, settle down!" The chief shouted in vain over the noise. Sighing, Fang closed his book with a loud _slap._ A hush settled over the room as everyone turned to see what had caused the noise. Fang felt the eyes of everyone in the room settle on him. He placed the book on the floor and looked at the chief and made a vague motion with a paw. Picking up the hint, Bogo turned to face the gathered officers.

"Alright officers," He began. "Here're today's assignments. Officers, Delgado, Fangmeyer and Grizzoli, you'll be investigating a robbery in Tundratown. Higgins, Snorlaf and McHorn, you'll be patrolling the Savannah Central. Hopps, Wilde and Wolford, you'll be investigating a murder over in the five-one-four. Anderson, parking duty." As the officers stood to leave, Bogo held up a hoof. "Hold on a moment. Before you all leave, there's one more matter to discuss." Everyone stopped in their tracks. "Now, as some of you may have noticed, we have a guest here." He said. Everyone's eyes settled on Fang. He sighed and stood up.

"Thanks, chief," he said. "I'll take it from here." He yawned and cracked his neck. Placing his paws on either side of the podium, he looked up at the officers, who in turn gazed at him. "Alright, listen up." He said. "I am Specialist Dreson. I have been sent here by Special Forces for an undetermined amount of time. My job here is to train each and everyone to fight Reapers." Fang saw officers shooting each other confused looks. "Does anyone in this room know of the Reaper Crisis from nineteen years ago?" He asked. He waited. No one raised a paw. He nodded solemnly. He was about to speak, when Officer Hopps raised her paw hesitantly. He pointed at her. "Yes?"

"The Reaper Crisis was when a gang calling themselves the Reapers rose to power in Europe and nearly overthrew the established government. They were defeated by American troops after six years of running rampant." She said decisively. Fang raised an eyebrow.

"Someone's done her homework. You are most correct, Officer Hopps."

"But you said you were going to teach us how to fight them?" She asked skeptically. Fang noded.

"Yes. There have been several confirmed sightings of Reapers in Zootopia in the past month." He said.

"But they're just a gang, right? Why does someone from Special Forces need to come here and teach us how to deal with something we all already know how to deal with?" She asked. Fang noticed most of the officers nodding in agreement. Fang sighed.

"The thing about Reapers," he said. "They're skilled. Much more than you would think. They aren't your everyday, run of the mill gang. They're trained for combat and taught military strategy. In all honestly, they're almost more of a terrorist group than a gang. They're only considered a gang since they all were from the same general area of London and never really made it past their home country, and the fact that they kill indiscriminately. Does that answer your question, Officer Hopps?" He asked. She nodded. "Good. Now, training starts tonight at twenty hundred hours. Sharp. I expect you all to be there on time. Until then, I bid you good day. Dismissed." With that, he walked down the aisle. As he opened it, a voice behind him caught his attention.

"Sir, the Reaper Crisis ended almost fourteen years ago when the entire...organization was killed in Selena, correct?" The voice belonged to Chief Bogo. The water buffalo crossed his arms across his massive chest. "Why are we being trained to fight an organization that doesn't exist anymore?" He asked dubiously. Fang took a deep breath and turned around.

"Because, Bogo," He said. "There have been sixteen confirmed sightings of mammals bearing the Mark of The Reaper in various parts of Zootopia in the past month. It would appear that they are not quite as dead as we had hoped." With that, he turned around and walked through the door. As he stepped out of the precinct into the early sunlight, he tilted his head back, letting the sun's warm rays caress his fur. It was hard to believe it had been fourteen years since that fateful day. In all that time, what had he accomplished? His rank had not changed. He had never found employment, opting instead to live off of Special Forces' money. The only combat operations he had participated in were small skirmishes between the army and some remote third world country's poor excuse for soldiers. He hadn't even dated since high school. He sighed. _I need to get a life._ He mused. He ran a paw over top his head and made his way to the parking lot, already formulating how to spend the rest of his day.

\/

 **(A/N)** I am sooooooo sorry for the massive delay on this, but life kind of went crazy not too long after the last chapter, and so I didn't have as much time to work on it as I would have liked. Now that everything's straightened out, I should be able to update again MUCH sooner. Until next time folks,

-Sirix


	4. Chapter 4

Fang opened the door to the house he shared with Jared, exhaling heavily through his nose as he did so. Glancing at the clock, he realized it was only nine in the morning. That meant he had roughly eleven hours to burn. With a sigh, he unlaced his combat boots and set them to the right side of the door, out of the way. As he made his way to the guest room, he raked his mind for something to do. He vaguely recalled Jared joking about a park nearby, but couldn't remember where he said it was, much less it's name.

Crossing the threshold into the room, Fang removed his trench coat and tossed it onto the bed. He set about removing the chestpiece from his torso, his fingers moving deftly with experience. He sighed with relief as it came off and set it beside the bed. He stretched his shoulders, causing several _pops_ to issue from the joints. His gaze, as always was the case, was drawn to his chest. It was covered in crisscrossing white scars where his fur had not grown back. There were burn marks alongside them as well. Even after thirteen years, he could still remember the touch of the iron…

No. He couldn't dwell on that. Not now.

He opened his closet door and grabbed the first shirt his paw came in contact with- a black t-shirt with the Cannibal Corpse on the front and tour dates in the back- and slipped it on. He ran his paw over his head as he recalled what Jared had told him about the surrounding area. Aside from the park, there was a bar around the corner, a comic book shop about three blocks away, and a great diner just down the street. Almost subconsciously, his right foot began to tap out a beat as he thought. It was much too early to go drinking, so that ruled out the bar. He didn't have any money on him, and he didn't know where the nearest bank was, so the comic book store was also out.

 _The park it is._ He thought. _Now where's that GPS?_ He rummaged around in his bedside drawer for a moment before pulling it out. He switched the device on, tapping his foot impatiently as he waited for the device to boot up. Once it had, he tapped through the various menus until he found what he was looking for. A list of nearby locations popped up on the screen. He scrolled through them until he found Fairway Park. He tapped the name, and a map came up. To his surprise, it was only four houses away. He switched the GPS off and set it on the table. With a shrug, he snatched his music player and headphones from atop his bed. He slipped the player into his pocket and the headphones around his neck.

He turned and left the room, the door closing with a soft _click_ behind him. He

stopped in the kitchen and opened the fridge. He grabbed a small hip flask engraved with with several Japanese Kanji that read ' _Property of the Black Fang of Selena_ '. He uncapped the flask and took a sip of the strawberry flavored soda within. Although a flask Like his was traditionally filled with alcohol, he had never particularly taken to the substance. He was determined not to become a stereotype soldier, drowning his past pains with a bottle.

He replaced the cap and tucked the flask into his pocket. He slipped his headphones over his ears and pulled out his player, scrolling through his list of tracks. Ignoring his boots, he opened the front door and stepped outside, squinting at the harsh sunlight. Being a normally nocturnal mammal, Fang had to wait a few moments before he could see again. He picked a song at random and turned to his left.

He replaced the player in his pocket as he started his short trek. As he walked, Fang looked around the neighborhood idly. A young panther cub was playing basketball in his driveway with a ram that looked to be around the same age. Fang smiled slightly at the sight. The line of buildings on his left was broken by two trees on either side of a dirt path that was headed by a sign that read _Fairway Park._ Fang headed down the path, nodding his head to the beat. As he passed by the last few houses on his side of the street, he noticed that they all had the same basic structure to them. It was interesting then, that even though the houses all appeared different, and yet they were the same. It reminded him of the mammals populating the world today. _If people could just look at what's the same within us, and not the differences, the world would be a much better place._ He mused. _Ah, well. No use griping about it._ A gap appeared in between the buildings on his left, a sign proclaiming: _Fairway Park, est. 1918_ and had an arrow pointing at a trail that cut through a small forest. Fang followed the trail, noting how dense the forest was. He could only see a few feet into the shrubbery on either side. A swallow flew across the trail, several strands of straw clutched in its talons. Fang smiled serenely as the music shifted on his player.

His ears were met with the sound of heavy guitar riffs and snare drums as _Nevermore_ began playing the single from their E.P. _Ode to the Raven_. Fang's smile faded, but his feeling of serenity didn't. He followed a bend in the trail, and Fairway came into view. His jaw hung open a little. The park consisted of two separate and distinct areas. One of them was dedicated to the children, and no expense had been spared. A massive blue steel play structure dominated the center of the playground, with enough slides on it that the kids upon it never had to wait long for a turn in one. There were a total a five chain bridges on it, three poles to slide down, four small rock climbing walls, and several other gadgets Fang had never seen before as a child. Children of various species and ages crawled over the structure, reminding Fang strangely of an anthill. The structure was surrounded by nine swing sets, each one painted a different color of the rainbow, with a black one at the start of the chain and a white one at the end. There was not a single empty swing to be seen. _Holy fuck, that's a lot of kids…_ He thought. To the left of the playground was another area, one populated with adults. There were several card tables, benches and even a closed bookcase next to a picnic table. Fang made his way to the adults' area, his head bobbing escalating into near head-banging levels as the song reached its crescendo.

Upon arriving at the adults section of the park, Fang received the usual reactions from people: some quickly looked away, clearly uneasy with his scar, while others ignored him entirely. There were a few who smiled and waved at him though, and he made sure to return the favor. He sat at the vacant picnic table by the bookcase and read the piece of paper taped onto the front of it. " _Take one, leave one!"_ Fang made a mental note to bring an old book next time. With a shrug, he rolled onto the top of the empty table, facing the sky. He put his hands behind his head, his foot idly tapping out the beat. As he lay there staring at the cloudless blue sky, he found his mind wander, as it invariably did, to himself. He was by no means an arrogant person, but rather, one who constantly tried to find ways to better himself. He sighed. _What happened to me?_ He thought. _I used to be the soul of every party. Now, I can't even think about socializing with others without breaking out in cold sweat. What's wrong with me?_ He already knew the answer. The Reaper Crisis had left him scarred, both inside and out. As part of the Night Corps., he'd borne witness to the horror of the Reapers firsthand. It was not an experience he was eager to relive. He buried the memories in the back of his mind once again, shuddering despite the harsh sunlight. _Right, moving on,_ he thought. Ever since the crisis, he'd had a hard time making new friends. The only friend he currently had was Jared, who he'd known since they were twelve. Thinking back, Fang realized he'd never had a girlfriend. He'd never found someone he liked in that respect during high school, and there hadn't been time after, as he'd immediately joined the military. The prospect of having one now frightened him almost as much as his buried memories. He really needed to talk to Jared about that. He was always the more sociable of the two. His ears twitched as the song playing changed again, detecting the opening turn table sounds of Surfacing by Sliptheknotin. He sat up and hopped off the table, quickly sitting on the bench. As the drums started up, Fang began tapping out the beat with his foot. His breath hitched as he waited. Even though he knew exactly how many beats it would take, he still found his spine tingling. The sound built up a fire in his limbs, yet he forced himself to stay true to the beat of the song untill…

" _FUCK YOU ALL!"_ Corey Tailer's scream blasted straight into Fangs ears, setting his soul ablaze. His arms moved of their own accord, air-drumming along with the song in perfect sync. He began headbanging like a madman, ignoring the looks the people around him were sending his way. He was used to it at this point. He continued to do this throughout the duration of the song, his fervor growing stronger by the second. About halfway through, he noticed someone had approached his table, but he ignored them for the time being. The person simply stood by the table and waited patiently. Fang let out the final flurry of notes and bowed his head as the song ended. He quickly fished the player out of his pocket and paused the next song as it started. He set the player down on the table and slid the headphones down around his neck. Finally, he turned his gaze to the person waiting.

She was a gazelle, standing about six feet tall. Her black horns curved gracefully to either side. A lock of blond hair was ironed straight and hund down the right side of her face. Her eyes were a warm shade of brown. She wore a pair of grey sweatpants and a Rolling Stones T-shirt. All in all, her appearance wasn't anything noteworthy, and yet mammals from all over the park were casting glances her way, as if she were familiar to them. She regarded Fang with an amused expression. He raised an eyebrow.

"May I help you with something?" he asked politely. The gazelle smiled.

"I was simply wondering what song could possibly inspire such fire in someone." She said. Her voice was strangely melodic, with faint traces of an accent that Fang couldn't place. He nodded.

"It's a song called Surfacing," He said. "Written and performed by a band called Sliptheknotin, in the year-" He began.

"Wait, they're called Sliptheknotin? As in…" She interrupted, her voice trailing off. She blushed, which Fang found surprisingly cute. "Sorry," She said abashedly. "I didn't mean to interrupt you like that. The name was just surprising is all." Fang smiled.

"Don't worry about it, it's not a big deal. To answer your question, yes, they named themselves Sliptheknotin, which means exactly what you think it means. But like I was saying, Surfacing is off their first studio album, which is self-titled, and was released in 1999. Every time they perform it live, they declare it the new national anthem." He said. "It has one of my favorite drum beats of all time. Something about it just gets the blood pumping." She nodded.

"So they declare it the new national anthem? They do realize that they can't make it official just by saying that, right?" She asked. Fang laughed.

"Of course they do. It just doesn't stop them. Remember, these are the people that are known to pass out on-stage due to asphyxiation. Multiple times during the same show in some cases." He said. Her eyes widened.

"Seriously?" She asked. Fang nodded. "Oh, by the way, my name is Michelle." She said, sticking out her hand. Fang shook it firmly.

"Fang," he said. "Nice to meet you, Michelle." She raised an eyebrow.

"That's an interesting name." She said. "I'm assuming that's not the name you were born with?" She asked. Fang nodded.

"You assume correctly. Fang is the name given to me by my comrades in the Special Forces." He said.

"Special Forces? You're a soldier then?" She asked.

"Yep. Specialist rank. I was stationed in Selena during the Reaper Crisis almost twenty years ago." He replied.

"Twenty years ago? Pardon me for saying so, but you don't look that old. What are you, twenty, twenty-one?" Michelle asked. Fang laughed.

"I wish. No, I'm thirty-six years old. I was eighteen when I was stationed. They told me later I was stationed there because Selena was a small town. They had no way of knowing what would happen with the local gang." He said. Michelle nodded.

"I don't think anyone could have known." She said somberly. Fang gave her a half-smile. "So, what _is_ your real name then?" she asked.

"Drake," he said. "But I prefer Fang. It has more meaning." Michelle nodded.

"I can understand that," she said. "If I may ask, how did you get the name 'Fang'?" She asked. Fang sighed and ran a paw over his head.

"It's a long story." He said. Michelle shrugged.

"I've got time." She sat across from him at the table. Fang slid his music player back into his pocket and rested his elbows on the table.

"Fine then. It was, oh seventeen years ago now." He said. "We were a year into the Crisis. The Reapers had just kidnapped our commanding officer, a woman by the name of Jill Windbrooke. We assumed it was because she had valuable knowledge. A rescue mission was suggested…" He wasn't sure why he was telling her this story. He'd only ever told it to Jared before, and that had taken weeks of constant badgering. And yet here he was. There was just something about this woman that put him at ease. As he talked, he was aware of the sun climbing higher in the sky. Michelle was a great listener. She never interrupted him, but nodded every now and again, reacting at appropriate times and never looking bored. "...so it was decided that a team of four people would be sent into their hideout under the train station to rescue Windbrooke. I was part of this strike team. We infiltrated them at midnight, thinking they would be asleep, and thus making the mission easier. We entered into the main hall. I remember that it was massive, almost cathedral-like in nature. It was so dark that we couldn't see anything. Since we all had great low-light vision, command hadn't seen fit to equip us with night-vision goggles. Doubt that they would've helped anyway. There wasn't any light at all down there." Fang paused in his story to rub his eyes and stretch.

"So we felt our way around until we found the doorway that led us into a dimly lit corridor. There were tapestries mounted on the walls, depicting some pretty fucked-up things. It was a straight shot through, no doors or hallways branching off. At the end, there was a door, easily fifteen feet tall, wrought in iron. We worked at one of the door handles until we managed to get it open enough to slip inside. Right into the midst of a gathering of Reapers." Michelle's eyes widened. "You think that's bad? The person heading the gathering was Windbrooke herself. It seemed that she had been the mole in our midst. What followed was the most brutal, bloody fight I've ever seen. Martin was the first one to fall. He…" Fang took a deep breath to steady himself. "He was the youngest. He was only sixteen. Shot right in the eye." He paused to collect himself. "The rest of us fought on. There was no time for anything but combat. The three of us managed to fight our way to the other end of the room before they took Lani. Decapitated her with a garrote. Zane and I managed to get through and close the door on them. We barricaded ourselves in another hallway, this one with multiple branching hallways and rooms. Trapped and needing a way out, we had too many options and not enough time. We didn't have too many options though. We started searching every doorway we came across, hoping for escape. I can still hear the pounding on the doors, the smell of death clinging to everything. After a while, we found what we were looking for. There was a ladder that went up through several layers of earth and ending somewhere. It didn't matter where, just that it wasn't there. A we started climbing, we heard the doors shatter at the end of the hall. Explosives, most likely. Zane all but pushed me up the ladder, telling me to go, that he'd hold them back. Windbrooke appeared in the doorway, and in panic, I started climbing. The sounds of battle sounded below me, but I couldn't stop. When I heard Zane die...something came over me. I went into a sort of blood frenzy. By this point, I had reached the top of the ladder and exited into a sewer. I could hear the sounds of Reapers following me up, calling for blood." Fang took a deep breath.

"What happened next, I barely remember. From what other sources tell me, I crawled out of that sewer covered in blood, followed by Windbrooke and her right and left hand men. In the streets of Selena, I apparently fought all three of them at once, killing her right hand man with his own knife and mortally wounding the left hand. Now just Windbrooke and I, we had a fierce battle in the streets of Selena, which ended in the destruction of half the city." Fang ran a paw over his head.

"The next thing I knew, I was standing over Windbrooke's dying form, a bloody combat knife in my paw. I was bleeding pretty badly, though I couldn't remember getting wounded. The paramedics arrived shortly after, General Jackson with them. I was taken to the closest military base, Fort Stonewall, which was twelve miles out of Selena. It was there, sitting on the medical examination table waiting for the doctor that I overheard two soldiers talking about me. I won't ever forget what one of them said: 'Look, it's him! The Black Fang of Selena! They say that he took out the top three members of The Reapers! He's a hero!'" Fang rubbed his temple.

"The name stuck, and people started calling me Fang from that day onward." He sat back on the bench. "The reason I prefer fang over Drake is simple," He said, foreseeing her next question. "I don't want to forget the sacrifices my friends made that ultimately ended up starting the downfall of the Reapers. Apparently, Windbrooke had been leading them from the shadows for years." He sighed. "So there you have it. That's the story of how I got my name." He finished. The two of them sat there in silence for a few moments. By now, the sun had begun to set, and most of the children had left, as well as the adults. Aside from the two of them, only a tiger family remained, sitting on the other side of the courtyard.

"That was quite the tale." Michelle said quietly, breaking the silence. Fang nodded. He opened his mouth to say something, but his stomach growled fiercely, interrupting him. _Ah shit, I was talking so long I forgot to eat._ He thought. His expression must have given away some of that away. "Oh dear, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to keep you here this long." She apologized. Fang waved a paw.

"It's alright, I miss meals every now and again anyway. Nothing new there. I'll just go home and eat." He said. Michelle's eyes widened.

"Oh no, I can't allow that!" She exclaimed. "Please, come with me. I know a great place we can eat. I insist!" Fang shrugged.

"Lead the way." he said. The pair of mammals rose from the picnic table as one. Fang stretched, cracking his neck as he did so. Michelle turned and began walking, Fang following close behind her. "So what kind of restaurant is this place?" He asked nonchalantly.

"It's called Archie's," she said. "I like it because it has something for everyone, whatever their dietary needs." _That means it'll probably have meat,_ Fang thought. _This woman is extremely open-minded. Hell, I don't think I've ever seen an herbivore eat in the same room as a carnivore._ Michelle led him to a parking lot separated from the rest of the park by a line of trees. The lot only had three cars in it, an old beat up Volkswagen, a rusty pickup truck, and a newer Mustang.

"So which one's yours?" Michelle asked.

"None of them," Fang replied. "I walked. I'm staying less than a block away from here." Michelle nodded. She fished around in her pocket for a moment before withdrawing a set of keys. She walked up to the Volkswagen and unlocked it.

"That must be nice, living so close to this place. So many different people gather here, predator and prey alike." She was almost...gushing. I hit him then that Michelle might be a Mammal's Rights Activist.

"Meh. I was never the sociable type to begin with." Fang said. "I've only been in Zootopia for a few days, and I had today off, so I thought I'd check the place out."

"I see. Well, in any case, the park usually isn't very active after eight PM, even though it's open to the public twenty-four seven. The way I hear it, there aren't very many nocturnal mammals in the area." She said. Fang nodded appreciatively.

"Duly noted. Thanks." He said. Michelle smiled and nodded before getting in. Fang made to follow suit, but much to his dismay, the door handle didn't seem to work. With a chagrined expression, Michelle leaned over and opened the door from the driver's side. Fang pulled the door the rest of the way open and climbed in.

"Sorry, I forgot to mention that the passenger door doesn't work properly." She said.

"It's fine. Just a minor inconvenience." He said as she inserted and turned the key. The engine made a noise like a dying weasel before starting up with a dull roar. Michelle put the car in in drive and pulled out of the lot and onto the main road. During the drive, the two of them talked. They talked about everything and nothing, ranging from Fang's still active status in S-F, to Michelle's parents. During their conversations, Fang managed to learn more about this enigmatic woman. She was indeed a MRA, and very passionate about it. However, she thankfully wasn't the kind of person to create problems to solve. She knew how to play the guitar (Acoustic and electric) although she didn't play much these days. She had been raised around a mixture of classic rock and pop music growing up, and was a fan of both genres. Apparently, her best friend was a mountain lion, and the two had been close as sisters since the first grade, which was part of the reason she didn't mind carnivore's eating in her presence.

"So what about you, Fang? What was your childhood like?" She asked. Fang shrugged.

"Well, like I said, I was never very sociable. I kept mostly to myself and didn't really have any real friends until I was twelve. That's when I met Jared, and we've been close ever since. I'd say he was my best friend but, well, that would imply I had other friends to compare him to. My parents died when I was eight, so I was living with my grandmother at the time. School was always rough for me, but I made do. Graduated top of my class in high school. I mainly listened to classic rock and rap growing up, but as I grew older I stopped listening to rap all together, and started listening to heavier music, like Metallica and Megadeth. This was all in Detrot by the way. When I wasn't doing school work or listening to music, Jared and I would entertain ourselves by competing against each other in various areas. Ironically, Jared always won the physical challenges, the races and whatnot, and I would always dominate the academic and innovation areas, like poetry and the time I made a rapid-fire water cannon out of PVC pipes, duct tape and a small amount of circuitry. After high school, I enlisted, and that pretty much marked the end of my childhood, although I always did keep in touch with Jared." He said. Michelle smiled.

"Well, it sounds like the two of you were happy, and that's what counts. Sorry about your parents." She said. Fang chuckled.

"Yeah, it wasn't the best childhood, but overall, it was fulfilling. I have no regrets. And don't worry about my parents. That was a long time ago, and I've made my peace with it." He said. Michelle slowed the car and turned on her blinker before turning right into the parking lot of Archie's. Looking up, Fang saw that the neon sign that read: _Archie's Grillhouse: Proudly Serving Mammals since 1896._ Fang's nose twitched as it detected the aroma of grilled chicken. His stomach growled quite loudly. "That smells amazing." Fang stated. Michelle looked at him, confused.

"What does?" She asked.

"The chicken they have grilling right now. I can smell it." He replied.

"Well then, let's go!" she said. Fang couldn't have objected, even if he wanted to. The two of them got out of the car and walked to the front door, whereupon Fang opened the door and held it for Michelle.

"After you, madam." He said, eliciting a giggle from the gazelle. She crossed the threshold, Fang close behind her. His foot caught on the rug inside, causing him to stumble. He looked down to better see where to plant his feet. In doing so, he couldn't help but notice that Michelle swayed her hips slightly with every step. It was hard to discern the actual size given the baggy nature of her attire, but it was quite obvious she had _very_ nice hips, and the matching rear for them. _WhyamInoticingthiswhyamIsuddenlysexuallyattractedtoagazellewhatthefuckisgoingonwhatwhatwhatwhat…_ his thoughts continued like this for several minutes, the thoughts whipped round in his head, as if thrown around by a tornado. Externally, he kept a straight face and prayed that no one said anything to him in the next few minutes. Michelle led him to a small table for two, farther back than the others, and right next to a floor-to-ceiling window with an excellent view of the parking lot. The pair sat across from each other, Michelle having her back to the entrance. For the first time since he had met Michelle, a silence settled over them as Fang looked through the menu that was conveniently on the table. He decided on what he wanted fairly quickly, a simple chickenburger with extra mustard, but kept looking at the menu as he tried to get his thoughts in order. Michelle seemed unfazed by all this, waiting calmly and patiently.

Finally restoring his mind to a functioning state, he set the menu back on the table.

"So, Fang, can I ask you something?" She asked. Fang shrugged.

"Go ahead."

"Well, it seems to me that you're a war hero, correct?" Fang nodded. "And specialist, if I recall correctly, is a relatively high rank, yes?"

"Correct." Fang said calmly.

"You said you've only been here a few days. Were you sent by S-F?" She asked.

"Yep."

"Why?"

"To train the ZPD for something."

"Train them for what?"

"That's classified information. If I told you, I would have to kill you." he said cooly. Michelle started to laugh but stopped.

"You're serious, aren't you?" She asked, a hint of fear creeping into her expression.

"More serious than stage five brain cancer." he said solemnly.

"Alright, I'll drop it." She said. Just then their waitress appeared, a hyena with purple streaks in her hair.

"Welcome to Archie's, can I take your order?" The line was given monotonously, devoid of life or spirit. Fang almost felt bad for her. Almost.

"I'll have the caesar salad." Michelle said.

"I'll have the chickenburger with extra mustard." He said. The hyena raised an eyebrow but said nothing and walked away. Silence once again fell over the duo, but not an uncomfortable one. Fang's foot began idly tapping out a rhythm and he began bouncing his palms off his lap. The wait for food was short. Their hyena waitress returned, this time with food and a nametag that read "Cara". She placed the food on the table and walked away without a word.

"Thank you!" Fang called after her. She didn't deign to acknowledge him in any way. He shrugged and picked up his burger. He breathed in deeply, enjoying the aroma. He then to a massive bite out of it, the flavors exploding on his tongue. His eyelids shut halfway, and he shivered.

"Been awhile?" Michelle asked, a look of amusement plastered across her delicate features. Fang nodded.

"Three years. Fort Helen doesn't allow real meat. Too many prey animals were offended." he said quickly, before tearing into the burger. Michelle shook her head with a smile and began eating her salad. The two of them ate in companionable silence. Fang finished first sitting back in his chair, a content sigh escaping his lips. He wasn't completely satisfied, but that was good. By the time he got back to Jared's, he'd be ready to eat dinner. As Michelle was finishing up the last of her salad, their waitress returned with the bill. Fang wasn't sure how she knew when to be there, but he didn't really care enough to ask about it. He reached into his pocket and withdrew his wallet.

"What do you think you're doing?" Michelle asked him, legitimately sounding cross. Fang looked at her in confusion.

"I'm paying fo-" He began.

"Absolutely not. I've got the bill. Consider it my apology for taking so much of your time." she cut him off. Fang held his paws up up in surrender.

"Alright, Ms. Goody-Two-Shoes," He said. "Have it your way." He replaced his wallet in his pocket. Michelle was looking at him strangely.

"Ms. Goody-Two-Shoes?" She asked dryly. "Seriously?" Fang chuckled.

"Seriously, you are probably the nicest person I've ever met. You walk up to a stranger who's headbanging like a demon in public, and somehow convince him to open up to you, then treat him to lunch because you took time out of your day to listen to a soldier's stories, and then insist on paying. I can say with the utmost certainty that most mammals would have just ignored me. Hell, some of them would probably cross the street just to avoid me. Normally, I would suspect that you wanted something from me, but I don't think that's the case with you. So, I think the name fits." He said matter-of-factly. Michelle looked away.

"Well, when you put it that way…" Her voice trailed off. She looked at him and smiled. "I guess it does fit. By the way, where did you get that scar on your face?" She asked. Fang touched said scar lightly, just above his eye.

"Knife." he said shortly. Michelle raised an eyebrow.

"Knife? That's it? No epic war story to go with it?" She asked. The look on her face suggested immediate regret. Before she could apologize, he laughed. A real laugh, something he hadn't done very much recently.

"Well, there is a story behind it, but I wouldn't call it epic. You see, when I was twenty-one, I left active duty for a few years. Once I returned, they had me assist in an attack on some terrorist base. I think they called themselves The Holy Trinity, or something. Based in America, but never really made the news. Twenty of us were sent in to eliminate them before they became a problem. One of 'em came at me with a combat knife, but it was clear that he didn't know what he was doing. Kept looking around all confused like, tripping over nothing, all that nonsense. Well, he took a few swings at me, to no avail. I tried to disarm him, but due to a lack of sleep, I wasn't on top of my game. I accidentally pressed the edge of the knife to my temple, and tried to rip it from his paws. This scar is the result of how well that went for me." he said. Michelle's eyes widened in understanding.

"You mean-"

"Yeah, that one was my fault." Fang said, laughing again. "Ever since, I haven't stayed up for more than eighteen hours at a time." He said, rubbing the back of his neck. Michelle finished paying the bill and set it down.

"You know, most people wouldn't laugh at scarring themselves." She said. Fang raised an eyebrow.

"I'm not most people." he said lightly. "You ready?" He asked. Michelle nodded.

"Let's go, my jaguar friend." she said amiably. Fang laughed.

"I'm not a jaguar." He said, amused. Michelle blushed fiercely.

"Oh, I'm sorry! I should have realized you were a panther!" she exclaimed.

"I'm not a panther either." Fang said, breaking out in laughter once more.

"Cougar?" She asked hesitantly.

"Nope."

"Then what are you!?" Fang shook his head.

"I'm a lynx, lass. I know the coloration is off, but the rest of the features are there." He said. Michelle nodded.

"I've never met a lynx before today," She admitted. "That's probably why I didn't recognize your species. So, do you dye your coat then?" She asked. Fang shook his head.

"No, I have melanism." He said. Michelle looked confused. "You know what albinism is?" He asked.

"Yes, it's when a mammal is born with no pigment in their fur, causing it to be white, and their eyes are usually red." She said. Fang nodded.

"Indeed. Melanism is the opposite of albinism. It's when a mammal has an extremely high amount of melanin in their body, causing their coat or skin to be black. It doesn't affect the eyes though, in case you were wondering. Oh, and don't feel bad about the species thing. I've only met one person in my life who was able to tell, and he was a lynx as well." He said. "I'm ready to go whenever you are." Michelle nodded, and the two of them rose, heading for the exit.

The ride back proved to be an interesting one. Michelle had turned on the radio to a local pop station after making sure it was alright with Fang. He spent the first bit of the ride listening to the music, as he had never really been exposed to it before. For the most part, he found that he didn't mind it, but noticed the recurring theme of breakups and generally relationship oriented lyrics with simple, synthesized beats. After awhile, he had had enough. He was about to request something, anything else, when a new song started playing. " _Try everything…"_ the voice that came out of the car's speakers was undoubtedly belonged to Michelle, who quickly switched to a classic rock station.

"Sorry, but I can't stand that song anymore," She said. "They play it so much-"

"That was you." Fang stated quietly, surely. "On the radio." A slightly panicked look flashed across the gazelles features, but was quickly replaced with an expression of resignation.

"You noticed, huh?" She said, sounding slightly defeated. "So what gave it away? The hair? The eyes?" She asked.

"Neither. I just recognised the voice on the radio as belonging to you." He said simply. Michelle sighed.

"Well, in any case, I am indeed Gazelle." She said. Fang looked at her in confusion.

"Well of course you're a gazelle. That much is obvious." he said. Michelle chuckled softly.

"Right, I forgot you're new to the pop scene. Gazelle is my stage name. It's what I record all my songs under." She said. Fang nodded.

"Alright. So, why did you make your species your stage name? I'm willing to bet there's a reason for it." He said. Michelle nodded.

"I chose it because I've never seen myself as better than anyone else. I'm just a gazelle who wants to sing and bring people together. I'm not better or worse than anyone, just different." She said simply. Fang nodded.

"I respect that." He said. "A lot of famous people are stuck-up. It's great to see

Someone be humble once in awhile." He said quietly. "I suppose the next question for me is: how famous are you in the pop scene?" he asked. Michelle simply pointed out the window. Fang followed her extended finger. Outside, an electronic display board advertised a magazine called _Vanity Fur._ The advertisement depicted Michelle in a baby blue skirt and top, sitting in a seductive-ish position, gazing passionately out at the streets. "Pretty fuckin' I take it." He said.

"Language," She said sternly. "There's no need for that." Fang nodded.

"True, I don't need to cuss. I just wanted to. And honestly, there's no need to get worked up over my foul language unless there's kids around. We're adults, so that kind of language is permitted. I wouldn't try to make you swear, so please don't tell me not to." He said calmly. "Fair enough?" Michelle sighed.

"Fair enough." The rest of the ride was spent in silence.

"Turn right up here. Fifth house on your right." Michelle pulled up to the curb, the

engine rumbling. "Thank you," Fang said. "For everything. You have no idea how hard it is for me to initiate conversations with strangers." Michelle smiled warmly.

"You're welcome she said." Fang nodded and opened the door to get out. "Wait a

minute." Michelle said. She quickly dug around in the center console, producing a pen and scrap of paper. She quickly jotted down a string of numbers on the paper and handed it to Fang. "Text me, or call me sometime. I'd love to spend some time with you again someday." She said. Fang took the paper gingerly, as if afraid it would disintegrate in his paws.

"T-thank you." he stammered. His mind was once again spinning out of control. "I um, nee-need to go do th-that thing, y'know, wi-with that one guy." He stuttered.

 _Why am I acting like this?_ He thought. "Um, s-see you around!" He said before darting out of the car, closing it behind him with a paw. He quickly fished his keys out of his pocket and hurriedly jammed the right key into its slot. He twisted it and opened the door, nearly tripping over the frame. Pulling the key from the knob, he slammed the door shut and leaned back against it. He clutched a paw to his chest, where his heart hammered against his ribcage. _The actual fuck is wrong with me?_ He noticed Jared staring at him from the dining room.

"Dude, you okay? Should I be worried?" He asked. Fang shook his head vigorously.

"No cause for alarm." He said, slightly winded. He held up the paper Michelle had given him. "I've had quite the experience today," he said. "And I made a new friend." He moved over to the table and sat down heavily across from Jared.

"You? Made a new friend?" jared asked, incredulous. He grinned and leaned forward. "Tell me." He said. Fang told him. As he ended his narrative, Jared let out a low whistle. "Damn son." He said. "Sounds like you have a crush." Fang's ears started burning.

"What!? No, don't be absurd! We're just friends!" He exclaimed. Jared clearly didn't buy it.

"Whatever you say man. In any event, let's eat. I'm starving!" he said. Fang nodded. As Jared got up to make whatever food he was planning on making, Fang tilted his head back and gazed at the ceiling, wondering if Jared was right after all.

 **\/**

 **(A/N) Holy sweet baby Jesus. Almost two months since the last chapter. I'm so sorry about that, but life got in the way, my computer broke down, and I've been playing Overwatch on a nearly religious level. In the midst of all that, I kind of forgot that this story existed. Again, I'm sorry. But I'm back, and hopefully will be able to upload more frequently after this. Well, here's chapter four. I hope y'all enjoy it. Oh, and happy Halloween! Until next chapter- Sirix**


	5. Chapter 5

Fang laid on his bed staring at the ceiling, his mind awhirl with several conflicting emotions. The source of them? Michelle. On one hand, he really did like her. She was kind, humble, and was good at listening, not to mention non-judgmental. On the other hand however, he would most likely be fighting Reapers in the near future, and that sort of thing would make her a target if he continued to have any sort of relationship with her. He didn't want to be the reason she wound up dead. He already had enough on his conscious. He sighed. This dilemma would tear him apart if he dwelled on it too long. He sat up and rubbed his face with both paws. His gaze turned to the nightstand. The clock read 7:18. Forty-two minutes until he was supposed to be back at the precinct. His focused shifted to a certain scrap of paper that rested in front of the clock. Upon it, a string of numbers were scrawled in a flowery, flowing handwriting. He quickly looked away. Hauling himself from the bed, he began donning his armor and coat, preparing for the day. As he fastened the last strap of his cuirass, there was a knock on his door.

"It's open." he said, picking up the black coat. The door swung open, and Jared stepped in. He sighed when he saw the armor on Fang's chest.

"Seriously dude? What is it with you and that outfit? And besides, why would you even need armor at the precinct? No one there's gonna be able to do shit to you with or without it." He said, slightly exasperated. Fang shrugged.

"I don't know," He said. "It just feels right." Jared shook his head.

"Oh yeah, this came for you in the mail. Looks important." Jared said. He handed Fang a manilla envelope with the S-F logo on the front. Fang took it from him in confusion.

"What could they possibly want now?" Fang asked. He quickly opened it and withdrew several sheafs of paper. The top one had _Top Secret_ stamped on the top in red ink, as well as the Night Corps. emblem. He looked at Jared apologetically. "Sorry, but I'm gonna have to ask you to leave real quick. Night Corps. eyes only." He said. Jared sighed.

"Yeah, yeah, I understand." Jared said. "Just wish you didn't have to keep secrets."

"That makes two of us." Fang said grimly. Jared nodded in sympathy before exiting the room, closing the door behind him. With a sigh, he looked through the pages. The first one was a letter from General Johnson. He skimmed over it quickly, deducing that it was mostly formal, telling him not to speak of any of the information within the documents and such. Fang set it aside. There were three small photographs underneath it, each depicting a corpse. Fang examined them closely. They were arranged in a triangular pattern. The top one was of a skunk. Young, maybe nineteen, twenty. She had four bullet holes in her temple, and one through her left eye. Fang stared at the photograph confused. _Why would they-_ Then he saw it. Above her left breast, a red skull with what appeared to be bloody tears appeared to be branded into her flesh. The symbol of the Reapers. Quickly checking the other two photos, Fang confirmed that they both had the same mark somewhere on their bodies. _That makes it official. They're back._ He thought bitterly.

He removed the photos and set them aside, face down. The paper they had been attached to was a hastily scrawled hand-written letter signed by Commander Hao, the head of the Night Corps. division.

 _As you can clearly see, they're back and killing again. There's no question about it, no doubt in my mind. I'm sending Lieutenant Reyes to Precinct One of Zootopia behind you. By the time you read this, she should be there. She's bringing one of them with her. We can't afford to keep it quiet anymore, but if we tell the public now, it'll cause mass panic. Tell the ZPD, and no one else. Godspeed._ Fang set the letter down, his mind buzzing. He let out a sigh of relief. This made his job here significantly easier. He had no doubt he would have been able to pull it off regardless, but now he could be up front about what they would be up against. The next paper was an autopsy report on the three victims. The next made Fang smile. It was a shipping record. The higher ups had sent him his best weapons, and several thousand rounds of ammunition for each. A message was written on the bottom right corner in blue ink, a message from Rex, his favorite field instructor that read: _You_ _SO owe me for this. Took all the favors I could muster._ Fang chuckled in amusement. He'd probably be spending several hours with the old mountain lion taking care of the various assortment of weapons at Fort Gabriel. Not that he minded. Fang often found manual labor to be a great way to exercise the muscles and clear the mind. He reached back into the envelope, checking to make sure he hadn't missed anything. His paw came into contact with a folded piece of paper. He pulled it out and unfolded it, smoothing it on the floor. A photograph of a lioness dressed in military fatigues was paper clipped to the top left corner. The paper itself was part of a dossier, belonging to one Alejandra Reyes.

 _Let's see… Twenty-five years old, joined when she was twenty… passionate in her belief of Christ… participated in a few skirmishes where she demonstrated an ability to lead, thus the promotion… not much combat experience though. Nothing large-scale at least. Fiery temperament, occasionally hard-headed/stubborn, fiercely protective of teammates and those close to her. Overly social on occasion._ Fang sighed. She could prove to be quite the headache. He studied the picture closer. Her tan fur was nothing unusual. She wore a cross necklace with her dogtags, and had mostly standard issue equipment, with the exception of the brass knuckles she wore on her left paw. Her eyes were a vibrant green and seemed alive, even in photograph. She had a self-assured grin plastered on her face as she leaned against a massive UT-13 tank. It's three forward facing cannons were painted pink, in stark contrast to the black steel that made up the body of the machine. A name was painted on the side in golden block letters: _Gabriel_. Fang stood and stretched. He gathered the papers and replaced them in the envelope. He opened the bottommost drawer on his nightstand and placed it underneath a copy of the dictionary. He'd have to either find a better place for it or destroy the information. He'd worry about it later. He slipped his trench coat on and cracked his neck. He picked up his copy of _Fifty Shades of Prey_ from his nightstand and tucked it under his arm. He exited the room, closing the door behind him. As he entered the kitchen, he noticed Jared sitting at the dining table, looking preoccupied. Fang set his book down on the table and looked at him.

"Something bothering you?" He asked quietly. Jared blinked, then shook his head.

"Not really bothering me, per se," He said. "Just thinking about something really hard." Fang nodded. "Alright. Just making sure." He said. He sat down next to the lion, crossing his feet at the ankles. "Can I talk to you about something?" Fang asked. Jared snorted.

"You should know the answer to that by now." He said, shaking his head. Fang chuckled softly.

"Of course." he said. "It's...well it's about Michelle." He finished quietly. Jared's eyes gleamed with anticipation.

"Go on." he said simply. Fang sighed and ran his paw over his head.

"Well, she's a really damn good listener for starters. Never interrupts, never looks disinterested. She's nice, almost to the point of naivety. She's extremely humble." He said. Jared raised any eyebrow.

"But…?" he prompted.

"But, well, I think I might...y'know…" His voice trailed off, embarrassed. The corner of Jared's mouth twitched upwards.

"You're crushing on her, aren't you?" he asked, semi-seriously. Fang felt his ears begin to burn.

"I don't know," Fang admitted. "I've never felt like this before."

"That's right, you've never had a girlfriend, have you?" Jared asked. Fang shook his head.

"Never really liked any of the girls from school and my love life has honestly been the farthest thing from my mind since I started in the military." Fang said. Jared nodded.

"Well, how does she make you feel?" Jared asked. "Maybe I can help you figure this out." Fang smiled.

"Thanks. Well, she's got this...peaceful aura about her, like you can tell her anything. It's almost unsettling to be honest. But she listens when you do tell her things, and she doesn't make rash assumptions or generalizations. I honestly think that she tries to _really_ understand your viewpoint on the situation, to empathize. But the most predominant feeling I noticed while I was with her was the sense of... _normalcy_ it brought me. Like I wasn't a social outcast. I felt… accepted. And you and I both know how rare _that_ feeling is for me." He said. Jared nodded. "It's also worth mentioning that when she gave me her number, I was _extremely_ flustered, and that is not an emotion I've had to deal with before." Fang said, his ears beginning to burn again. Jared nodded thoughtfully.

"Do you enjoy talking with her?" Jared asked.

"Yes. No doubt about it." Fang replied without hesitation. That part, at least, he was absolutely sure about. Jared grinned at the lynx.

"You're totally crushing on her." He said. Fang shrugged.

"I suppose I am. Not that it matters." He said. Jared's grin faded.

"What d'you mean?" He asked. Fang sighed for what felt like the millionth time since he had arrived.

"It's not a good idea to pursue a relationship with anyone right now, not with this whole Reaper business. I can't stand the thought of getting someone like her involved." he said. "Besides, the less people I'm attached to emotionally, the less weaknesses the Reapers have to exploit." He finished. Jared shook his head,

"Damn, you're just as cold as ever, eh?" he said. Fang nodded.

"I have to be. At least for now." Fang said. Jared shook his head but let the matter drop. Fang glanced at the clock.

"Got a few minutes before we need to leave," he said. "I was hoping that you could give me some feedback on something I've been working on." He reached into his trenchcoat pocket and withdrew a folded piece of paper, handing it to his lion companion. Jared unfolded the paper with a look of mild confusion and began reading what was on it. His eyebrows raised in surprise.

"When'd you start writing poetry?" Jared asked. Fang shrugged.

"One of my men suggested it to me a couple years ago. Said it was good for the soul. I started writing a few months ago. What you're reading is something I've been working on for a couple days. Haven't thought of a title yet." Fang said. Jared nodded.

"It's good." He said. " _Very_ good. I'm getting a bit of an Badger Ellen Poe vibe from it." Fang nodded.

"I draw a lot of my inspiration from his works. This particular one was inspired by "The Raven"." He said. Jared folded the paper back up and handed it to Fang.

"I like it." He said simply. Fang took the paper and replaced it in his pocket.

"Thanks." He said. Jared nodded. The two of them sat in silence for several moments. Fang didn't mind. Silence suited him better than idle chatter. Jared leaned forward suddenly, causing Fang to start slightly.

"Have you ever thought of songwriting?" He asked excitedly.

"Not really, no. Why do you ask?" Fang asked, baffled. Jared grinned.

"Well, I hear that writing song lyrics is similar to writing poetry," he said. "And what you just showed me could make for a great metal song. I know you joined that band a few years ago, Devil's Tongue, and that it didn't work out very well." he finished. Fang nodded.

"What of it?" he asked. Jared's grin grew even wider.

"I've got a bass around here somewhere." He said. Understanding flashed through Fang's mind.

"Jared…" he warned.

"Oh, come on! We both know your voice is amazing, so why not sing for a band?" Jared asked. Fang sighed and dragged a paw over his face in exasperation.

"We both also know how much I hate singing in front of other people," He said. "I'll drum in a band with you, but I _refuse_ to sing." He said with finality.

"But-"

"I said _no_." Fang said forcefully. Jared sighed.

"Fine. Be that way then." He said, pouting slightly. Fang rolled his eyes and picked up his book. "Kinky." Jared snickered. Fang met his eyes and held his gaze long enough for Jared to become visibly uncomfortable. With a snort, Fang cracked open the book and began reading where he left off. Silence once again pervaded the room, settling over the two predators like a blanket, comforting and familiar. As time went on, Jared seemed to become bored. He had begun balancing his chair on its back legs, while simultaneously trying to keep a spoon on his nose. Fang sighed inwardly. Some people, it seemed, never changed. After a few moments, Jared lost his balance and started falling backwards. Fang's tail darted out and wrapped around the front leg of his chair and pulled him back upright.

"Thanks." Jared said, embarrassed.

"Anytime." Fang said absently. Fang glanced at the clock and shut his book. "We should get going." He said. "Don't wanna be late." Jared nodded and stood, Fang following suit. "I'll drive." Fang said, grabbing his keys off the rack. Fang pulled out of the driveway, heading east, towards the station.

"Hey, Fang," Jared asked slowly. "When I left work earlier, I could've sworn I saw two

military choppers flying towards the station. Know anything about that?" He asked. Fang nodded.

"Yes."

"Are you going to tell me?" Jared asked.

"No." Fang said simply. Jared sighed.

"Legal bullshit?" He asked.

"Always." Fang said with a shake of his head. The pair remained silent for the rest of the trip. As Fang pulled into a parking spot, a flurry of movement caught his eye. The door to the stationed had flung open, and an angry looking mountain lion was approaching the car. Fang sighed as he recognized her as lieutenant Reyes. He opened his door and climbed out, Jared following suit on the passenger side. When Reyes was within earshot, Fang straightened his posture slightly.

"You seem upset, Lieutenant. Is something-" Fang was interrupted as Reyes swung a closed fist at him. His instincts kicking in, his paw darted out and caught her fist mid swing. He bent her wrist back hard enough to cause pain before releasing her.

"You!" Reyes spat. Fang cocked his head.

"What about me, Lieutenant?" He asked coolly. Reyes glared at the lynx.

"You _knew,_ " She hissed, venom dripping off of every syllable. "You knew what these things were. You knew and still you lied, you fed the public that bullshit about-"

"You are out of line, lieutenant." Fang interrupted impassively. "Whether or not you agree with my choices is irrelevant. I am the commanding officer here. You would do well to remember that, as well as controlling that temper of yours. I won't have you endangering anyone's life because you're blinded by emotion. Do I make myself clear?"

Reyes gave Fang one of the nastiest glares he'd ever seen. It was clear to him that she hated him already.

"Yes, sir." She said stiffly, barely concealing her anger.

"Good. Now, where is the Reaper?" He asked.

"In one of the holding cells, below the station. Four guards are assigned to its cell, as well as three Marines. There is a weapons crate in your office, containing your usual armaments, as well as ammunition for each one. I am to be attending your...lessons as well." Reyes said monotonously. Fang nodded.

"Very well. Thank you, lieutenant. Gather the other officers and have them wait for me by the front desk." He commanded. "I will be there shortly."

"Yessir." Reyes said neutrally. She turned and walked away, spine stiff. Jared turned to look at Fang.

"What was that all about?" he asked. Fang shook his head.

"I'll explain the situation to everyone when I get back from my office. Wait for me there." He said shortly before walking briskly away. Entering the compound through the side door, he headed straight to the offices. On his way, he passed by the front desk area, where most of the officers were gathered. Reyes stood behind the desk with Clawhauser and appeared to be speaking to the feline. She spoke quietly enough that Fang couldn't quite hear what she said above the quiet chatter from the other officers. With a mental shrug, he continued on his way. He unlocked his office door and stepped in, closing the door quietly behind him. A large metal box was sitting on his desk with the Night Corps. insignia emblazoned on the top in navy blue. It was roughly six feet long and one foot tall. There were four latches along the front of it, the center one with a keyhole. The key rested on the table next to the case. Fang walked over to the desk and unlocked the case. He flipped the latches and opened the lid, revealing the what was within. The interior was lined with black foam, with pieces of a sniper rifle were set in cut out sections in two neat rows. The pieces had all been painted a dark purple at one point, but time and use had weathered the paint almost to the point of non-existence. What remained of it was faded and scratched. A single word was scratched onto the stock of the weapon: " _Repentance_ ".

Fang remembered the first time he'd held Repentance in the Night Corps. Laboratory almost nineteen years ago. The rifle had been presented to him by one Jason Adkins, a gun developer the Night Corps. had privately contracted to make their weapons. Adkins had simply given Fang a piece of paper and pointed him to the shooting range when asked about the gun. The paper had detailed all of the massive rifle's specs in detail. It's official model was the L-49 Dread Slayer. Bolt-action, match-grade and free-floating barrel. The compensator was a prototype that halved recoil, making it manageable for the feline. Every part of it, including the accessories, was carbon fiber, making it light enough to carry with ease. The stock was custom made to fit Fang's shoulder perfectly. The scope was also a prototype, but had unfortunately never been able to be reproduced. It was capable of cycling between several different vision types, including a heartbeat detector and infrared sight. A small, collapsable stand was mounted on the end of the barrel. The magazine was of a unique design, one Fang had come up with himself. It was twice the length of a standard magazine, but held twice the ammo. One end held conventional rounds, while the other held a special, handmade type of ammunition called Dreads, which were also match-grade. Dreads were specifically made for killing Reapers.

As Fang snapped the last piece into place, he set the gun down and unzipped one of the duffel bags that still remained in the office. He withdrew a worn black leather strap that he fastened to Repentance. He reached back into his bag and withdrew several more magazines and a sash with pockets for said magazines. He put the sash around his left shoulder and slung Repentance over his right. He took a deep breath and exited the office, closing and locking the door behind him. _This ought to be fun._ He thought dryly as he made his way to the reception area. He heard the voices before he saw the owners.

"Lied? What does she mean? Why is she even here?"

"Of course the governments keeping secrets. What'd you expect?"

"How can we trust the Specialist if he lied to the public for so long?"

Fang entered the circular room where all the various officers had gathered. A hush fell over the crowd as they beheld him. Without a word, he made his way to the front of the crowd and stood next to Reyes.

"Alright, listen up. I'm only going to say this once." He said calmly. "Yes, I have lied to the public for a very long time. But before anyone does or says anything rash, I would like to say that, in my defense, I had to make a judgement call and simply did what I thought was best for the public. I know that it was dishonest to withhold the truth, but it was something I deemed necessary at the time. I still do. Now, you're probably wondering what this is all about. If you'll follow me, I'll show you." He said, his voice remaining even. He turned and began walking towards the holding cells, when a voice rang out from the crowd.

"That's all well and good, Specialist, but can you tell us why there's military helicopters behind the station and why there's marines in the holding cells area?" the voice belonged to Nick Wilde, the red fox Fang had met earlier. Fang stopped and turned around. The entire crowd of officers, Reyes included, were looking at him with extreme interest.

"Because we have a Reaper being held down in the cells." he stated simply. "Now, follow me. It's time you met Raydren, the Decimator." he said. He turned and resumed his walk to the holding cells, this time accompanied by the footsteps of the entire ZPD and one lieutenant. As he descended into the station's lower level, a thought, unbidden, entered his mind. _I hope they don't break. We're going to need every ounce of help we can get if we're going to stop them._

\/

 **(A/N) Welp, here's chapter 5. I'm really sorry about how long these chapters take me to get out. My life's calmed down quite a bit recently, so I'll probably be able to them out a bit faster after the holidays are over. As always, enjoy the chapter, and if you have any suggestions on how I can improve, let me know. Have a safe and wonderful holiday season! -SirixtheUnicorn**


	6. Chapter 6

_Darkness. Darkness so complete, one couldn't see their paw in front of there face. Fang tightened his grip on his handgun, gasping in pain as the wound on his arm opened wider. His grip went slack and he almost dropped the weapon._ "You cannot evade death forever, young one." _The voice came from all directions at once, surrounding the lone feline._ "Come, embrace me, and accept the inevitable." _Fang shivered violently as a cold pain traced its way up his spine. Gasping for breath, he fell to his knees, the gun clattering to the ground. Then he saw it. The luminescent white skull of a sabre-toothed cat floating towards him yellow lights flickering dimly behind empty eye sockets._

"Specialist Dreson!" The rough voice next to him tore Fang out of his flashback. Lieutenant Reyes looked at him strangely. Fang shook his head and ran a paw over his head.

"Sorry, I was...elsewhere. Right, let's keep going." He said distractedly. There was some concerned muttering from several of the officers behind him, but Fang paid them no mind. As he walked down the corridor, a familiar chill resonated within his body. He gathered from the surprised and confused voice behind him that the others had felt it as well. _It's been a long time since I've been near one._ Fang thought. _Maybe his presence is what triggered that flashback._ It was more than likely. The group came to a stop at the end of the hall, where a cell smaller than the rest was set into the end facing them. The cell door had paper tags with inscriptions taped on it, nearly covering the bars. Four mammals stood guard, a jaguar, a ram, a jackal and a lion. The jaguar and jackal wore Marine fatigues and had heavy assault rifles in their paws. The lion and ram wore riot gear and clutched round, steel shields that had more paper tags plastered across their surface. All four of them stood at attention at the sight of the commanding officer.

"At ease men." Fang said with a wave of a paw. The guards relaxed their posture, eyeing the cell nervously. Fang turned to face the group.

"Alright Greenhorns, this is it. Watch closely, and try not to scream." With that, Fang turned and approached the cell. "Show yourself, demon." he commanded. He waited. Nothing. Not even the faintest whisper of a sound.

"Um, sir?" A voice called out from behind him. He ignored it.

"Don't make me do it," he warned. "Show yourself now, to everyone in this room, and no harm will come to you." He finished. Still nothing. He sighed. The officers hand begun to mutter amongst themselves. "Very well," Fang said loudly. The officers quieted down immediately. "You leave me no choice." Fang held out his paw to one of the guards, who placed a small rectangular device in it. There were three buttons on it, a green, yellow and a red. Fang pressed the yellow one. A shrill hiss echoed throughout the subterranean room, originating from the corner farthest from the cell bars. A skull materialized there, black and glistening in the form of a raven, eyes glowing deep purple. A black mist flowed from the back of the skull and separated into several tendrils. The abomination charged at the bars, causing several of the mammals present to shout in panic. They need not have worried. As soon as the Reaper made contact with the bars, they glowed white hot and caused it to hiss in pain before backing away.

"What the hell _is_ that thing!?" the voice belonged to Bogo. The cape buffalo kept a stoic expression, but his eyes betrayed his fear. "That," he said, gesturing at the creature behind him. "Is a Reaper." The silence that ensued stretched on for the better part of a minute. Then everyone began talking at once. Out of the general noise, Fang was able to make out several accusations thrown his way. They were along the lines of 'How could you lie to us?' He'd expected such reactions. He turned his back on the group and faced Raydren. He reached through the bars and placed his right paw on the surface of its mask.

 _Damn you and you invocations!_ The demon's thoughts tore at Fang's mind, icy and full of venom.

 _I hope it hurt._ Fang responded through the mental link, doing little to mask his contempt for the creature before him. _You deserve it after all you've done._ Fang felt the demon's hatred grow.

 _You mortals aren't fit to walk this world,_ It's thoughts took on a sinister hiss. _You're so weak, so_ frail _, that you had to steal our own power to defeat us._

 _This power was not stolen,_ Fang responded icily. _It was given to us, willingly or not._

 _Even if that was true, you still could not defeat us without it. You are weak without it._ Fang narrowed his eyes, his ears flattening against his skull.

"Suffer, Raydren." He spat, pressing the red button. Raydren let out a terrible wail, its tendrils flailing about sporadically. Fang watched with grim satisfaction as the Reaper tried to flee from the pain, only to be stopped by the naming spell holding him in place.

"What did you do?" The voice came from Officer Hopps. The cottontail stared into the cell, her amethyst eyes widened slightly at the spectacle before her.

"Vengeance." Was Fang's simple reply. He looked at the writhing demon. "I release you from your physical suffering, Raydren." He said monotonously. The Reaper's convulsions slowly came to a stop, the creature curling up into a ball in the corner. Fang turned and faced the group, who had gone completely silent.

"If you all will follow me, I will explain." He said quietly. He walked past the officers, taking in their expressions. Most of them seemed shocked, which was only to be expected. They _had_ just witnessed a demon in the flesh, after all. A few of them held stoic expressions, Wilde chief among them. Fang decided to take that as a sign of potential steadfast fighters. They might be useful on the front line. Reyes just looked pissed. Fang couldn't blame her. He would be too in her position. He ran a paw over his head. _It's going to be hard to earn back their trust._ He thought sullenly. _Still, better than another Red Scare._ The sound of footsteps accompanied him up the stairs as he made his way to the bullpen. The trip was otherwise dead silent. Fang held the door open for the officers who filed in, avoiding his gaze. Jared glared sullenly at him as he passed. Fang's expression remained neutral. Once everyone was inside, he entered. He walked up the aisle past the seated officers, his boots _thumping_ on the linoleum. Chief Bogo stood the the right of the podium, his arms folded across his massive chest. Fang walked behind the podium, resting his elbows on the polished mahogany, set Repentance against the side, and folded his paws before his face. He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, the eyes of the entire ZPD bearing down on him with accusatory gazes.

"There is no easy way to say this," He began. "So I'm just going to come out and say it: The story that the Reapers were a gang in Europe was a lie perpetrated by the American government to avoid a widespread panic and/or a second Red Scare." he paused, gathering his thoughts. "I wish that wasn't the case. I wish we could've been honest, told you everything. I don't care if you believe that or not. But I digress. I was sent here because of rumor and conjecture. We wanted to be safe." He paused, rubbing his temples. "A couple days ago, three bodies were found right here in Zootopia, each one bearing the Mark of the Reaper, thus confirming our worst fears. It would seem that the Reapers have returned, for whatever reason."

"Thusly, the rules of my assignment have changed. My highest priority is now to prepare you to fight before they amass enough strength to amass a full-scale assault on the city. Failing that, we are to evacuate the city, and save as many lives as we can." He looked each officer in the eye in turn. Most seemed confused or angry. The rest maintained excellent poker faces, clearly keeping their thoughts to themselves. Jared wore a slight half-smile, looking completely unsurprised. The only other noteworthy expression belonged to the cottontail, Hopps. She seemed completely enthralled by his speech.

"I'm sure you all have questions. So go ahead. Ask whatever you want, one at a time, and I'll answer the best I can." A small blur of motion caught his attention. Hopps' paw had shot into the air before the last word had escaped his muzzle.

"Hopps?" He said, gesturing vaguely.

"What's the Mark of the Reaper, and what is its significance?" She asked studiously. The fox at her side looked at her strangely, but said nothing. Fang took a moment to gather his thoughts before answering.

"To answer that, I need to explain what a Reaper actually is." he said. "Okay, well, to be honest we really have no fucking idea whatsoever." He admitted. "The whole science behind it is confusing and contradicting. The only things we know for certain are that they are not indigenous to our plane of existence, they thrive off of death, and that they are capable of taking over the bodies of anything that is living."

"To answer your question, the Mark is a red skull weeping blood. It marks the point of entry for possession. It should also be noted that anyone with the Mark, except in very specific scenarios, will die very soon, due to the accelerated aging and decomposition processes that come with Reaper possession." He said, resting his elbows on the podium again.

"Any other questions?" He asked evenly. An elephant raised her hand hesitantly from the back of the room.

"Yes, Officer… Pennington?" He asked, squinting to read her badge from across the

room. The officer shuffled nervously before asking,

"What plane of existence are they from then, if not ours?" She asked quietly. Fang shrugged.

"Hell if I know. I just kill the damn things." He said nonchalantly. A grizzly bear raised his paw next.

"Yes, Grizzoli?" Fang called.

"Why are they in this plane of existence and why this particular city?" He asked. Fang took a deep breath.

"Get comfortable. This is a bit of a tale." He said. He scanned the room for an empty chair. Finding none, he shrugged and hoisted himself onto the podium, dangling his legs over the front. He stared at the ceiling for a moment, gathering his thoughts.

"Our story starts about twenty years ago, with a man named Thomas Abernathy. Abernathy was a quantum physicist, working in a lab on an island in the middle of the Pacific. He made significant contributions to the American Armed Forces over the course of his life, such as laying the groundwork for what would become the L-1 series of weaponry deployed against the Reapers." Fang's tail twitched as he remembered meeting the man briefly before setting out on his first Reaper hunting assignment. How arrogant he'd been, assuring the scientist they would all be back shortly. If only he'd known then what he did now, things might have worked out differently. He ran a paw over his head before continuing.

"While he was on that island, he accidentally synthesized a new element, which was later dubbed Abernathium in his honor. This element emits a white aura, and maintains a constant temperature of 75.23 degrees Fahrenheit. The temperature never wavers, not even when placed in extreme temperatures, and is considered to be the most stable element in the known universe, with a half-life of over six hundred billion years. The amount created was only the size of a regulation sized baseball, but proved to be a most fascinating subject in the scientific community ever since. Unfortunately, Abernathy had no idea what had caused it to form in the first place, and was thusly incapable of reproducing the feat. His exploits were noticed by the U.S government some months afterward. When approached, he gladly showed off the material, which had been unofficially dubbed as the Lifestone. Our agents reported feeling more invigorated just by being within close proximity to it, as well as being more attuned to their surroundings."

"Naturally, every Armed Forces in the world wanted to research it, find a way to replicate it. Tensions between nations escalated over the coming months, but fortunately never came to violence. Before anyone could get their hands on it, Abernathy fled with it and went deep into hiding for reasons unknown. Some of you may be familiar with this incident, as the entire world spent the next year looking for him. The American Navy Seals found him first, on an unmarked island several thousand miles off the coast of Rio Deer Janeiro. He had been living on a small yacht with several years of provisions stocked onboard. However, initial sweeps of the island showed no trace of the physicist. We believed that he'd eluded us once again somehow. Two ships were sent to the island, with enough crew members between the two to retrieve the yacht."

"During the boarding of the yacht, one of the sailors wandered off by himself. He claimed to have noticed an unnatural buildup of dirt around the front of a boulder, and proceeded to investigate. He ended up finding the entry to an underground chamber that had gone undetected during prior investigations of the island. Once he alerted those in charge, an investigation was approved and a small search team sent. The team found Abernathy in a hexagonal chamber, performing some ritual over the Lifestone. They approached the scientist cautiously, not knowing what he was attempting to do. It was made apparent moments later as-according to Abernathy- the Lifestone exploded, killing the leader of the party. Reports on the following events are muddled and conflicting. Some say that the shadows of the room coalesced on the body of the slain leader, giving rise to the first Reaper. Others say that the Reaper climbed out of a pit that opened in the center of the room. Abernathy himself claims that a black vortex opened on the ground and the Reaper came out of it."  
"In any event, the first Reaper appeared unto them in that room and slaughtered the rest of the team. Abernathy was seen fleeing towards the ships with the creature in pursuit. Abernathy was able to board one of the ships safely while a few brave sailors gave their lives holding the Reaper back. Once departed, he was brought to Special Forces HQ and interrogated. Apparently, strange phenomenon had been occurring around the Lifestone that matched the description of an ancient prophecy that described the end of life on the planet. He claimed that the Lifestone had acted as a sort of beacon for these monsters, drawing them to our world. He had performed a ritual to destroy the stone, in an effort to keep their attention away from us. Obviously, it failed. When a battalion of marines came back to the island, they found every living thing on it to be dead, and the Reapers nowhere to be found."

"Does that answer your question?" Fang asked quietly. Pennington nodded. "Good," Fang said. "Anymore questions?" Fangmeyer raised her paw, and Fang called on her.

"This doesn't pertain to the Reapers, but I have to know, why is the Specialist in charge here, and not the Lieutenant?" She asked. Fang saw Reyes' face immediately darken, but she held her tongue.

"It's quite simple. I fought the Reapers before, extensively, and played a pivotal role in their ultimate defeat, and she did not." He said neutrally. "I also have more experience leading troops into battle against them." Fangmeyer eyed him strangely.

"Specialists don't command troops." She said dubiously. Fang tapped the front of his chestplate.

"Remember how I mentioned I was from the Night Corps.?" He asked. The tiger nodded. "The Night Corps. Is an anonymous splinter cell organization of S-F. I was the de facto leader of the group, the Nightingale. That's where my leadership experience comes from." He said. Fangmeyer nodded.

"Makes sense, I guess." She said. Fang nodded. Another paw went in the air, this one belonging to Wilde.

"Yes?" Fang asked. The fox lowered his paw slowly and seemed to gather his thoughts. He locked his emerald eyes onto Fang's.

"You said you're here to train us, but what if some of us don't want to be trained? I mean, we're cops, not soldiers." He said.

"Nick!" Hopps hissed. Fang held up a paw.

"He raises a good point, Hopps." He said. "The truth is, I can't force you to do anything you don't want to." He said. "This is a simple recruitment mission. Before anyone leaves however, I ask you to truly consider what is at stake." Fang paused and adjusted his position on the podium. "The Reapers are monsters who care for nothing but destroying life as we know it. It takes a bit of special training to effectively combat them. They're mostly invulnerable with the exception of depressingly few weaknesses. If the Reapers aren't stopped the results will be catastrophic." He said solemnly. "I won't lie to you: We _need_ more fighters. I'm sure some soldiers will be reassigned to me for Reaper training, but we need someone that knows the city. We only really need a few people, honestly." Fang rubbed his eyes.

"However, we don't expect something for nothing. Upon completing the training, you'll be inducted into the Night Corps. and will be given a General's wage for as long as you serve with the Corps." He finished. "Now, unless there are anymore questions…?" He asked, his voice trailing off. When no questions were proffered, Fang nodded decisively.

"Alright then. We'll meet here again tomorrow at the same time, give you time to process all of this. Only those of you who want to fight the Reapers should attend. Dismissed." He said with finality. He hopped off the podium, picked up Repentance and made for the door, avoiding the gazes of the other mammals in the room. As he opened the door, he heard someone stand up and follow him. Fang turned the corner and made for his office, Repentance's stock barely above the ground. His attuned hearing picked up the footsteps behind him, accompanied by a very slight panting as they tried to catch up to him. Fang slowed his pace to allow them to do so.

"Well that was a helluva bomb you just dropped on us," Jared said dryly, coming up next to the lynx. "Higher-ups make you keep this quiet?" He asked quietly.

"Aye. Don't think I'll ever understand that one." Fang muttered. Jared chuckled.

"Must've pissed you right the fuck off. I haven't heard that accent of yours come out like that in a looooong time." Jared said, smiling. Fang grunted sourly. "I mean, their reasoning makes sense. Telling the truth would have caused a lot of panic and mistrust between people, so I can understand wanting to keep this quiet. But on the other paw, the people deserve to know the truth." He said, making a conscious effort to suppress his accent. He rubbed his face in exasperation. "It's just so goddamn _frustrating_." He said helplessly. Arriving at his office, Fang pulled the door open with enough force to put a dent in the wall where the handle struck it. Muttering a string of curses under his breath, he made his way into the small room. He set Repentance on the ground and leaned it against the wall next to his desk. Jared closed the door behind him as Fang collapsed heavily into the nearest bean bag chair. Jared looked at him and shook his head.

"Seriously, what is it with you and bean bags? It's really fucking weird." he said. Fang shrugged.

"They're comfortable." he said. He leaned back and stared at the ceiling. It was stark white, the same as the walls. The expanse of white was broken only by a small crack where the ceiling and wall joined. Fang stared at the crack. A small structural weakness. Negligible really. Probably due to water damage. Not worth fixing.

"I'm scared." He said quietly, breaking the silence. Jared looked at him and chuckled.

"Really? The great Black Fang of Selena is scared? Well shit, better-"

"I'm serious." Fang cut him off. "After everything that's happened… I- I just…" His voice trailed off and he covered his eyes with a paw. Jared sighed and walked over to his friend. He crouched next to him and gently laid a paw on his shoulder. He felt Fang tense up and immediately relax.

"Talk to me." he said quietly. Fang took a shuddering breath and removed his paw from his face.

"You're all I have left." he said. "Everyone else is either dead or hates me. Now that the Reapers are here…" he shook his head. "I can't lose you too." he said. Jared took a deep breath.

"You won't." He said simply.

"But what if-"

" _You won't._ " Jared said more forcefully. "With a teacher like you, how could I lose?" He said amiably. "Now come on. I got some chicken the other night and it ain't gonna cook itself." Jared stood up and offered his paw. Fang chuckled and grabbed it, pulling himself up. Before Jared could react, the lynx wrapped his arms around him in a brief embrace. He raised an eyebrow.

"Jesus, first the accent, now this? Who are you and what have you done with Fang?" he asked jokingly. Fang chuckled.

"I'm a changeling. I locked him up in a meat freezer and stole his identity so that I could destroy everything he cares about." He said before giving a particularly bad evil laugh. Jared rolled his eyes but grinned anyway.

"Never change, Dreson." He said.

"Same goes for you, Delgado." Fang chuckled. "Now let's get out of here. I'm hungry." He said, heading for the door.

"Right behind you." Jared said. As he closed the office door behind him, he stuck a paw into his pocket and withdrew a gold pocket watch. He opened it and stared at the engraving on the inside: _War is cruelty. There is no use trying to reform it. The crueler it is, the sooner it will be over._

|

|

|

|

\/

 **(A/N) yeah, I don't have a good excuse this time. I'm just lazy. But I haven't forgotten about this story, and I'm determined to finish it. Thanks for sticking with me this far.-Sirix**


	7. Chapter 7

Michelle leaned her head back in the seat of a taxi. She had forgone her stage attire for an unassuming grey hoodie and pair of sweatpants. She had intentionally messed up the delicate curls in her hair, leaving it straight down the right side of her face. She had kept her voice low and avoided direct eye contact with the driver, and he still kept shooting glances at her from the front seat. Hopefully he wouldn't put two and two together. She pulled a smartphone out from her pocket and switched it on. There were twelve new notifications, three emails from her manager about possible new venues and fundraisers, eight app update notifications and a text message from her brother Michal. She responded to the text first.

 _OMG, it was the boss' birthday today and a bunch of us decided to surprise her with a cake and this was the face she made, I'm crying_. The text was followed by several emojis and a file attachment. She clicked on it and a picture of her brother's boss, Mrs. Cheney popped up. She wore a look of profound shock, her head tilted away from the cake and her eyes bugged out. Michelle chuckled quietly before responding with a simple LOL. She looked at the E-mails next. The first had _Tundratown_ as the subject.

 _I know you don't like performing here, but it's been awhile since the last one, and I've heard a few murmurs of discontent among the citizens. Let me know what you want to do._

 _-James_

Michelle sighed quietly. She'd always had a strong dislike of the cold, and Tundratown was probably her least favorite part of Zootopia. Still, she had quite a few fans hailing from that particular district and she didn't want to let them down. _I'm going to regret this._ She lamented internally. She knew that she would hate every minute of the performance, but the contentment of her fans was worth it. She quickly tapped out a reply:

 _When's the soonest we can schedule a concert? In the town square if possible._

She sent the message and looked at the next email.

 _The Make a Wish Foundation sent me this. Let me know what you think. -James_

Michelle opened the attached file. A picture of a small leopard boy around five or six filled her screen. He was laying in a hospital bed and had oxygen tubes coming out of his nose. Most of the fur on his body had fallen out, and he was unhealthily thin. Michelle felt sorrow creep up in her mind, a dark and ominous cloud that threatened to overwhelm. She knew what was wanted of her without reading the caption on the picture. The child was terminally ill, and his one wish was to meet Gazelle. She both hated and loved this. On one hand, it was extremely touching that a dying child would use their only wish to meet her. On the other hand, the child was going to die. There was no getting around that fact. She had done this sort of thing several times before, and it always left her thoroughly depressed. But she couldn't bring herself to turn them down. Her reply was short:

 _I'll do it._

The third and final email made her grin uncontrollably.

 _Hey, fantastic news! Try Everything just went platinum!_

Below was a screenshot of the current record sales for the album in question. The number indeed had breached one million copies sold worldwide. Michelle was barely able to contain herself. One million copies sold. Today was a good day. She dismissed the app update notifications and set her phone to vibrate. She slid the device into her hoodies' pocket and gazed out of the taxi's window, still smiling. She'd just finished a charity concert in the Rainforest District. The event had gone off without a hitch and had left her in a good mood. Such a good mood, in fact, that she tipped the cab driver an extra fifty dollars when he dropped her off at her apartment building. She turned and entered the complex as the sound of the cab faded into the distance of Sahra Square. She climbed the stairs quietly, not wishing to disturb the other tenants. A sign on the second floor landing proclaimed the complex's name in uniform black letters on a white backdrop with a red sun rising in the top left corner: _Sahara Suites._ The complex was modest, only three stories. Michelle had chosen it because it was small and unassuming, as well as offering a measure of anonymity. She appreciated her fame of course, but the constant attention was exhausting as well as annoying at times. The quiet was nice sometimes. As she climbed onto the third floor, her neighbor Carlos nearly slammed into her.

"Oh!" He exclaimed as the jaguar skidded to a stop inches away from the gazelle. "Desculpa, Michelle! I didn't see you there." He said, rubbing the back of his neck abashedly. Michelle smiled.

"Oh, don't worry about it. Where's the fire anyway?" She asked. Carlos grinned.

"I just got an email from the Sparrow," He said, using the local comic shops' owners nickname. "They're having a sale, five bucks for seven books. I guess I got a little too excited."

Michelle chuckled.

"That's quite the deal. But do be more careful, alright?" She said seriously. Carlos nodded.

"You got it." He said before descending the staircase. Michelle smiled and shook her head as she heard him start running again as soon as he was out of sight. Carlos may be in his late twenty's but he still had the fire of a teenager. Michelle headed towards her apartment at the end of the hall. As she walked, she couldn't help but hear snippets of conversations from some of the doors. The Justice's, a married sheep couple in 305 were having a loud conversation about whether or not the books of _Fifty Shades of Prey_ were better than the movies. In 319, Jacob the silverback gorilla was laughing loudly, presumably at something his son, Anthony had said. She could hear faint jazz music coming from 333, belonging to Mr. Antilles, the old Silky Anteater. Finally, she came to 342, the last apartment on the left. Her apartment. She withdrew a keyring from her sweatpants pocket and unlocked the door. She flicked on the light as she closed the door behind her. The living room was small and cozy. A brown leather armchair sati in front of a thirty-five inch flatscreen which rested on a plain oaken stand. A remote rested on he left arm of the chair. The cable box and blu-ray player were stacked on top of each other neatly to the left of the TV stand. On the right of the stand was a floor-to-ceiling ebony bookshelf. Sailboats upon waves were intricately carved into the edges. The books lining the shelves were organised alphabetically by author. There were several shelves filled with Stephen Lorde's works, almost every book he'd ever written under that name. He had written other books under aliases in the past, but Michelle had had very little luck in tracking those down over the years. The entire Harry Otter series by G.K Yearling was beneath those. Lord of the Rings, A Song of Ice and Fire, and several other series filled the rest of the left-most bookcase. The right was full of nonfiction books on various topics including musical theory. A small coffee table sat in between the chair and TV. Several pieces of paper were scattered across it, each one filled with scratched out lyrics and annotations. Michelle had been toying around with the idea of a song about the truth of war for sometime now, but had held off, not knowing enough about the subject to effectively capture its essence in song. That was partly why she approached the lynx Fang at the park the other day. People who air drummed that furiously had bigger things to worry about than looking ridiculous. Although, now that she thought about it, she supposed he might simply not care about how other people see him. The main reason she had approached him however was genuine curiosity. She had indeed thought him a panther at first. She had never seen any other mammal with completely black fur. Michelle had done some more research into melanism. Apparently, the odds of a lynx being born with it were astronomically high. Fang was probably the only one on the continent. She sighed, wishing for the millionth time he would call or even text her. But he was probably busy with his top-secret assignment. She understood it was an executive decision, but it was still slightly annoying, not being able to talk about one's work. She moved into the kitchen, located behind the recliner, and flicked on the lights. The entire room was only about ten feet long and eight wide. A granite top counter ran along the left wall with a sink embedded in the middle and a dishwasher in the front of the counter, just right of the sink. A small microwave oven sat above the dishwasher and a white cutting board next to it. A line of cabinets ran above the counter, housing cups, dishes and silverware. Along the right wall was a stainless steel refrigerator with a freezer. Next to the fridge was a small table pressed up against the wall. It was made almost entirely out of polished mahogany and had two leaves to extend it, which were currently in the back of the closet. Michelle opened the fridge and grabbed a plastic container filled with Ants on a Log, her favorite snack and brought it back into the living room. Sitting down in the rocker, she popped the lid off and switched the TV on. She sat the container in her lap as she started eating.

With one hand, she flipped through the channels lazily, hoping to find something interesting. She continued to eat with the other hand, chewing slowly. She flipped past an infomercial showing off a fancy pocket watch, a sci-fi horror flick about invading aliens and a pretty bad teen romance involving a timber wolf and a vampire bat. The next channel was on commercial and she decided to wait and see what was running. As the spokesperson droned on about car insurance, Michelle let her mind wander. Eventually, it wandered back to Fang. It had been almost two weeks since the two had spoken at the park. She wondered for the hundredth time what had had him acting so strange when she had dropped him off at his house. That cat had bolted into the house as if possessed by the Devil. She shook her head slightly. _I hope I didn't cause any flashbacks._ She thought guiltily. _I did dredge up some old wounds._ She sighed.

"...brings us to our fifth place for this list." The male announcer's voice drew her attention back to the TV. A program was counting down the top ten most ruthless military generals since World War II. Their number five was a leopard named Abiodun Azikiwe. He had made the list for his order to rush down the enemy forces despite being hopelessly outnumbered. All but three of the soldiers were killed. Two of them were captured as POW's. The other still lived is a psych ward. When asked about his decision, the general had simply stated : "It is better to die with honor than to retreat." Michelle shook her head. The program went down through the list: Sarah Smith in fourth for mercilessly executing someone who disobeyed a direct order, Gary Wimbelton for ordering the destruction of a small village hiding war criminals, and Fereeah Marsh for ordering a suicide mission.

"We'll unveil our top pick in a moment, but first, some honorable mentions." The spokesman said in a grandiose voice. As the program went through a few more generals (One of which personally executed fourteen turncoats), Michelle let out a small sigh. She made to flip the channel again when the spokesperson began introducing the top pick. She hesitated for a moment, then set the remote down.

"And Number One on our list goes to Drake Dreson, better known as the Black Fang of Selena."

 _Fang… isn't that the name of the lynx from the other day?_ Michelle thought uncertainly. "Dreson found his infamy during the Reaper Crisis of '97. He was given command of several hundred soldiers at the young age of twenty, making him one of the youngest people to ever receive the title of Commander, albeit temporarily. During the Crisis, he sent his entire company into the enemy's base of operations knowing that it was a death trap. None of them survived. Their sacrifice bought him the time needed to infiltrate the base and destroy it from within while the majority of enemy forces were distracted.

And if that wasn't bad enough, Dreson killed a young Saudi Arabian boy himself. The boy, whose names has not been disclosed to the public, was only twelve years old. The reasoning behind the decision was explained by Dreson in a press conference later that week." An older recording began to play on the screen. A jet-black feline stood behind a wooden podium, his paws behind his back. She knew it was indeed the same person from the park, despite the lack of a facial scar. "Yes, I killed that young lad. I will freely admit that. He had a bomb vest strapped to him under that tunic. As you all are well aware, our bomb squad was wiped out several hours earlier by Muslim extremists. The lad was runnin' right toward us. I had to make a hard and terrible decision right then an' there. I coulda let him come to us and had someone try and defuse the vest. The most likely outcome was death for the lad and us. I could shoot 'im down before he got to us. The bomb would go off at a safe distance, resulting in only the lad's death. As far as I could tell, there wasn't a third option. So I shot 'im. It was either him or us. I chose us. I ain't proud of what I did. But I had to make a decision, and I did what I thought was right. I will not apologize fer that." The recording of Fang spoke with a heavy Irish accent. Even through the old video footage, Michelle could tell he was barely holding it together during that conference. He turned his back to the camera promptly and stepped down from the podium. The recording cut to black and was replaced with the announcer's face. Michelle leaned back in her chair and regarded her ceiling. Her mind buzzed with the information it had just received.

 _Jesus,_ she thought. _Talk about a bad reputation._ She shook her head lightly. _I can understand the thing with the kid, but why would he send his entire company into a deathtrap? Surely_ all _of them didn't have to die._ She rubbed her temple with one hand and sighed quietly. _I gave him my number, didn't I? I hope I don't end up regretting that._ She sighed again switched off the TV. She rose from the chair, container of celery in hand and headed for the kitchen. Her phone began ringing as she placed the container in the fridge, the riffs and beats of AB/CD's Thunderstruck rang out through the apartment. An unfamiliar number was on the screen. She swiped to take the call and raised the device to her ear.

"Hello?" She said.

"Hello, is this Michelle from the park the other day?" A familiar, professional-sounding voice asked. _Speak of the devil…_ she thought dryly.

"Yep. You're Fang, right?" She asked.

"Aye. You busy right now?" the lynx asked. Michelle could detect a trace of nervousness in his voice.

"Nope. I just got home a little while ago, so I'm free for the rest of the night." she said amicably. "How are you?" She asked before he could respond. There was a slight pause as Fang evidently thought.

"Eh. I've been alright, I suppose. Nothing particularly exciting has happened yet, just endless paperwork and business calls back to HQ. How about you?" he asked.

"Oh, I've been fine. Just finished up a photoshoot for Vanity Fur." She said, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. "You know, I'm surprised you called. I was beginning to think you'd forgotten about me." She said somewhat nervously. Fang chuckled.

"To be fair, I _did_ forget. I found your number while I was cleaning up a bit and figured I might as well." He said. "Oh, right, before I forget…" He said quickly. Michelle heard shuffling papers in the background. "I was curious as to what it is you do." He said. More shuffling. "I mean, besides singing." He added. Michelle turned the question over in her head.

"Well like I mentioned before, I do some modeling work for various magazines, such as Vanity Fur and Vague, and usually wearing something from Preyda, who I'm sponsored by. I do as much for charity as I can, whether that be from concerts or fundraisers or the like. Of course, there's the whole social aspect. Attending parties, making public appearances, doing interviews on TV, that sort of thing." She listed off methodically. There was a short pause as Fang moved around some more papers.

"That must be exhausting as hell." He said, a hint of awe in his voice.

"A little bit," Michelle admitted. "But it doesn't really bother me. I love doing it." She said, moving back into the living room.

"I get that." Fang said with a sigh.

"What about you?" She asked. "What do usually do?" She asked, sitting in her chair again. There was a moment of silence between the two of them. Fang let out a long sigh.

"Here's what I can tell you. I'm currently a specialist for the Army. The higher-ups send me on missions for long distance combat and reconnaissance. Basically, I shoot people and provide the commander with enemy movements and tactics. I can't share any more of my current activities, although I _can_ say that I still do operations similar to ones in the past." he said cautiously.

"What kind of operations were those?" Michelle asked curiously.

"Well, I'm glad you asked." He said, sounding somewhat relieved. "I used to be part of an organization called the Night Corps. We were a infiltration unit, trained to take out key targets in larger conflicts. At least, that's the way it was on paper. In reality, the only large conflict we had any impact on was the Reaper Crisis. After that, we mostly ended up looking into targets suspected of hostility towards the U.S. and took out the ones we could confirm, thus preventing open warfare. We went on like this for a little over a decade before we were disbanded. There were only three of us left at the time. The Night Corps. was technically declassified around that time, but very little information was made public. Nowadays, most people haven't heard of it." He said, regret clear in his voice.

"After that, I was offered a promotion to Commander." He paused, and Michelle heard a drawer opening and closing. "I declined. I'm not so fond of command." He said simply.

"All that responsibility and shit? No thank you." he murmured. "That pretty much sums up my work." He finished. Michelle nodded thoughtfully.

"Can you tell me more about the Night Corps.?" She asked cautiously. There was another pause between them.

"Maybe some other time. It's a lengthy subject, and I need to get back to work." he said tiredly. "But, ah, thanks fer talkin'. It was...nice." He muttered, seemingly embarrassed. Michelle smiled.

"You're welcome. Call again sometime. I enjoy talking with you." She said earnestly. She could have sworn she heard his breath hitch, but he spoke again before she could comment on it.

"Er, right then. Bye." He said quickly. He hung up without waiting for a response. Michelle blinked. _What was that about?_ She thought, pocketing her phone. _He seemed so...sure of himself at the park. He definitely didn't seem like the type of guy to get flustered easily._ She shook her head. This lynx was proving to be a confusing acquaintance. She glanced at the clock on the stove. Almost eleven. She flicked off the kitchen lights and made her way to her bedroom.

A single twin bed was pushed up against one corner, lined with crimson sheets. A small oaken dresser stood against the opposite wall, with several picture of her with her friend Allie lined up on top. A small black nightstand stood at the foot of her bed. An alarm clock displayed the time in glowing red numbers, a picture of her father next to it. Zechariah Smith was an older man with graying hair. His piercing green eyes were shimmered with joy, a massive smile plastered across his face. He was holding an infant Michelle in his arms, his silver cross necklace dangling in front of him. Michelle smiled as she looked at it.

Her closet door was open, displaying an array of casual clothing one would never equate to a world-famous pop singer. She collapsed onto the bed, not bothering to change clothes. She pulled her comforter up to her chin and closed her eyes, quickly drifting off into the sea of unconsciousness.

 **(A/N) Ho-Lee Fuq, it's been waaay too long since I've updated this. Like, goddamn. Really sorry about the wait. I promise, I'll try my best to stop procrastinating. As always, please criticize my work. It doesn't have to be gentle. Peace, love, and hair grease,**

 **-Sirix**


End file.
